


It'll Get You There

by tweedo_enthusiast



Category: Blur
Genre: AU, Cheating, Depression, Hermann Hesse, M/M, Magic (barely), RPF WARNING!!, Red String of Fate, Science Fiction (barely), Slow Burn, True Love Cliche, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 49,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tweedo_enthusiast/pseuds/tweedo_enthusiast
Summary: Graham Coxon is a seemingly normal middle-aged man with a lovely wife, daughter, house, and job in the Colchester suburbs.That is until Damon Albarn moves in next door.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sigh....okay.   
> I wrote this a longish time ago in the span of about two weeks. It has been sitting in my drafts, virtually untouched, for a while and it is seriously starting to haunt me so I really just needed to post it! There are some dodgy bits in it and the formatting is weird and it ends in an odd place (basically at the climax of the piece) but other than that I think it's mostly together, and definitely the only one of my longer stories that is postable at all.   
> As of now, I don't really have any intentions of finishing it but I did have VERY big plans for it, so maybe one day I'll come back to it.   
> It was pretty much inspired by the East Asian "Red String of Fate" belief, which, lifted straight from Wikipedia goes as such: "The gods tie an invisible red cord around the ankles of those that are destined to meet one another in a certain situation or help each other in a certain way...the two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances." This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. So I had this theory about actual alternate universes, including one, maybe, where Damon Albarn never moved to Colchester and met Graham Coxon, and how that would play out if they met later in life. IN THEORY this meant that I could write an innumerable amount of AUs and connect them all, but as life goes I am too horribly lazy to see the theory through.   
> Also, yes, most everyone is kind of out of character and I also used real people like puppets, but if something is actually so awful in this that you feel the need to attack me personally I have a Tumblr.   
> Enjoy!

It was a Sunday in early March. It was neither cold nor warm, and Graham was sitting at the table in his newly remodeled kitchen with his wife Holly and daughter Pepper, eating toast with jam, watching the window intently.

\- Looks like there's someone moving in next door, he mumbled sort of offhandedly.

Holly looked up from her newspaper. - Better not be more college kids, she clucked her tongue, - They're so obnoxious.

\- Maybe there'll be kids your age, Pepper.

His daughter didn't bother to look up from her bowl of cereal, shrugging lightly. Holly frowned.

\- Elbows off the table, dear, she reminded her, vaguely irritated.

\- Sorry.

\- And don't slouch.

Pepper nodded, then stood up with her bowl, walking to the sink without a word. She then disappeared up the stairs, most likely to her bedroom, where she had been spending all of her free time lately. It wasn't like her and Graham really only could watch her leave with an aching sense of what was almost remorse.

Holly only sighed, - I don't even know what I've done wrong.

\- Nothing, he sighed as well, - It's just a phase, all kids her age go through it.

\- Well, Holly pursed her lips, - I certainly didn't. My parents would've had none of that attitude.

Graham scratched behind his ear. Holly's parents were a frequently cited, omnipresent force in the house; infinitely better and wiser than Graham, incidentally, at least according to Holly.

\- She's having a rough time at school, ya know. With that bloody maths teacher.

\- Of course I know. I was the one whoh had to go in and have a conference with him after that F, and she glared ahead meanly, her eyes like small slivers of polished obsidian, cold and unflinching. Graham extended his hand to cover hers in empathy, but she had already stood up to put her dishes in the sink as well. He followed suit, unsure what else to do. He found that he was almost always unsure what else to do, around her.

\- We should walk next door and introduce ourselves later, she continued, louder, - Once the moving truck has left. Maybe I can make a pan of brownies or something. She looked at him insistently, and he snapped back to attention. He'd been staring out the window again. He had yet to spot the new owners of the house, only the men moving and lifting their possessions. He saw a couch, a TV, boxes with lamps. Possible signs of a family?

\- That sounds good.

\- Going over later or the brownies?

\- Both.

She nodded, curtly. - Keep an eye on the house. I don't fancy intruding before they've even settled in.

He glanced back out the window a final time. There weren't even other cars yet. Just the moving van.

\- Alright.

Holly made a face. - Pronunciation, dear. Really.

\- Oh, Graham laughed, but she didn't seem amused. - All right. Will do, love.

\- And if you're heading upstairs, pop in Pepper's room and remind her that she has foohtball practice at two.

\- All right.

Holly smiled, - Thank you.

He was, in fact, on his way upstairs, to get his laptop to finish up more work emails. He didn't much like doing work at home but he really didn't see anything else to do. Holly would be cleaning all day. She never asked for his help; denied it, actually. There was always something to get wrong, helping. He didn't know if it could be considered sexist or not, just letting her do most of the household chores, or if it was just incompetence. Either way...

He rested his forehead on Pepper's door, listening before knocking. Through the wood, he could hear the angry static of the Pixies CD he'd gifted her, causing him to grin a little bit. So he knocked. There were rustling sounds, the music ceasing and then footsteps; the door swung open. Pepper looked up at him, somewhat annoyed.

\- Your mum wanted me to remind you that ya have football practice at two.

She sighed, flicking a piece of hair out of her face. - Okay.

He turned to leave, then gripped the doorway and smiled at her retreating form. - I heard you playing Doolittle.

\- Yup, she nodded, obviously forcing a brief smile. - Can you shut the door on your way out?

That was as good enough a 'fuck off' as any, he reckoned, but regardless, obeyed her wishes and stepped back out into the hallway and gently kicked the door shut. The music immediately resumed.

He wandered into where his and Holly's bedroom was, directly above the kitchen, with the same window facing the house next door's lawn, and another right across from their bedroom window. There used to be curtains, but now there was nothing. He had a pretty good view into that room, and wondered who was going to be in it now. Perhaps they could signal in Morse code to each other. Graham had done that with his neighbors when he was a kid. That was a long time ago, though, and he couldn't be half-arsed to relearn Morse code. He stared out the window forlornly a few more seconds before grabbing his laptop and leaving.

Holly was still in the kitchen, over the sink. She wore slick pink rubber gloves when she cleaned. As not to touch anything.

\- Did you talk to Pepper? she asked as he made his way across the kitchen. Her voice made him wince. Almost wince. She could be trying, at times.

\- She says she's all ready to leave for practice at noon.

\- She said that much to you?

He smiled, squinting. - The like.

\- Well, all right, then, she returned to her dishes. - This had better not turn into another chess club incident.

There was a 'because of you' lurking somewhere after that sentence, but it remained dormant, whether by the grace of Holly or God, who knew. To be fair, the chess club incident had barely been his fault, but that was besides the point. He kept his mouth shut and opened the door to the outside, to the porch, where during the remodel Holly had insisted on a nice seating area that Graham had hated originally for its price tag but now used more than anyone. He flopped down in his favorite chair and set his laptop up on the wicker coffee table.

He had an even better view of the neighbor's house, sitting there. From what he could see it seemed the moving van was almost completely unpacked already. He looked on, interest piqued, as the movers gruntingly struggled with one of those player pianos, big, brown. Maybe the new neighbors had a musician in their ranks. Graham himself was a sort of musician. Failed, retired, Holly would joke with dinner guests after a few glasses of wine, or not so jokingly with her parents. He only had the one guitar now, and the one shoddy album he and two other friends had recorded on tape and circulated in the late 80s at college. Seymour, they'd called themselves. It was fun. Playing, and all. He supposed.

He supposed that he really hadn't seen Alex or Dave in decades.

He looked away, feeling once again more lost than he deserved to be, with a beautiful wife and daughter and house and job, more than anyone could ask for.

So what was this he felt, when he looked at that piano?

Nothing. This was stupid. He was stupid. He returned to his emails, something monotonous and predictable he could tune into. Tune in, tune out.

And so it went that minutes passed, then half an hour, then an hour, then maybe two, putting the sun squarely overhead. A squelch of tires against gravel snapped him out of his stupor, and he paused to glance up at the neighbor's house. To his surprise, a car had pulled up. Perhaps the neighbors? He shifted ever so slightly in his chair, as to watch.

First out of the car was a teenage girl, hands shoved in the pockets of a shredded jean jacket and wearing earbuds. She had light brown skin and a menacing gaze that turned to encompass the house. Following her was who he assumed to be the girl's mother, skin also a light brown, seemingly genial, with a purse slung over her arm. She adjusted her sunglasses and stuck her head back in the car, calling someone's name; Graham couldn't hear exactly what it was from here, but it definitely started with a D.

Finally, the driver's door swung open, opened by whoever this "D" person was. A man. He stepped out on to the pavement, and Graham couldn't catch much else of him from the porch except that he was white but tan, tallish, smiling, and very, very loud.

\- Oi! he exclaimed. - What is my piano doing on the lawn?"

\- They banged it up, Dad, the girl said. - Sue 'em.

\- No, no, he circled it, in apparent anguish. - Christ, it was shitty enough as it was!

Despite the disparity of the situation he did seem rather amused, a laugh hinting at the edges of his voice.

The woman came to stand beside him, arm wrapped around his waist, surveying the damage quietly. The girl stood beside her. They looked like a new American Gothic. Graham watched them, as they appeared to pay silent homage to the piano before reanimating themselves, each picking up boxes and disappearing inside the house. He wasn't sure if he wanted to meet them or not; this was a pot luck neighborhood, for sure, but no one ever said Graham was a pot luck person. This house, this neighborhood, was all Holly's doing. If Graham had his way they'd live in a cabin, alone, in the Alps or something. He really did not like people. Especially the suburban, home-owners-association brand of people he'd found himself unwittingly submerged in since marrying Holly and agreeing to submit to her every whim 14 years ago.

This wasn't to say that he didn't love her.

Was it?

He shook his head, as if to shake the thoughts away. This was stupid. He stood up and walked back into the house, running his left hand through his hair unconsciously. Holly was in the living room, vacuuming. She seemed utterly consumed with it, so he retreated to the kitchen and began making himself a sandwich. He could already hear her yells: The mess you've made, Graham!

Pepper had appeared at the table. Earbuds in and phone set up in front of her, but there nonetheless.

\- D'ya want lunch? he asked.

She glanced up. - Er...grilled cheese?

He beamed as believably as he could. - Right up.

Setting aside the beginnings of his own sandwich, he put a pan on the stove top and melted a slab of butter in it before putting the bread and cheese down. Holly came, too, sweating somewhat. She sat down at the table, across from Pepper, and tugged her pink gloves off finger by finger.

\- Do you want me to do that, honey? she asked rather anxiously, eyeing his grilled-cheese-making skills.

\- It's all good, he looked back at her and grinned, waving the spatula a little bit. She still grimaced uneasily. - Well, he continued. - The new neighbors finally showed up. Never thought they would...

\- Oh, Holly said, not unpleasantly. - So it is a family.

\- Seems like. Dad, mum, teen girl.

Holly swiveled to smile encouragingly at Pepper. - Do you hear that, Pepper? A teen girl.

Pepper nodded minutely.

\- I bet she'll start at your school tomorrow.

\- Yeah, maybe.

Graham slid the spatula beneath the grilled cheese, lifting it up and plunking it down on a ceramic plate. - Your sandwich, he walked over and delivered it to Pepper. She gave him another forced, brief smile.

\- Want anything, Holly? he asked.

She folded her lips, another pinched grimace. - I'm fine, thank you.

He finished up his BLT out of odds and ends in the kitchen and joined them at the table. - They seem nice enough people, he continued, chewing thoughtfully. - Though the poor bloke- the dad, I'm assuming- his piano was a bit roughed up in the moving van or something. He started complaining about it when he stepped out the car.

Holly rolled her eyes. - Spiffing. That's exactly what we need. A complainer next door. Bet he'll complain about our lawn being too unkempt to the HOA.

Graham swallowed a bite of his sandwich.

\- He did not strike me as the HOA type.

\- Really? she clasped her hands. - What was he then? A hippie type? A stoner- I mean, you seay he's a musician...

Graham choked on the next bite of his sandwich.

\- Nah, just... Graham searched for something positive to say, exasperated by this conversation already. - They seem normal, right? A bit less uptight than some of our other neighbors. Not frat boys, not Cape Cod housewives, he shrugged. - Normal.

Holly thought for a moment. - What did the wife look like?

\- You can go out there and look for yourself, he half-laughed.

She pushed her chair out. - All right. I'll be right back.

\- Are you really-

\- I'm being neighborly, Graham, she cocked her head. - Okay? You don't have to criticize everything I do.

Pepper seemed to shrink into herself. He rubbed his temple with the back of his hand. - I wasn't criticizing you, Holly, he muttered, but she was already out the door.

\- Are you and mum getting a divorce?

\- What- Christ, no, Pepper, he glared at her. - Parents fight.

\- You two fight a lot, she said, and she really did have a point. But he wasn't about to tell her that.

\- Don't you have football practice to get ready for?

She, in turn, glared at him. - Yah...I mean, she's not even here, though.

\- She's right outside. Okay. Go get your kit or whatever.

Pepper laughed, a rare sound nowadays, but it still annoyed Graham. He had to sit for a moment and rub his temples even harder- that really wasn't what he needed right then, but it was the best he was going to get, especially with Holly on the outs after her miscarriage the prior month. That was it, then. Not that Holly couldn't be a flaming bitch any other time, but within the past two years, trying and failing and trying and failing and trying and failing to have another kid, her resolve had worn thin, like she was just about to snap at literally any given moment. He didn't even wanted to get started on their bedroom problems.

He went to stand by the window. The woman, the wife, was standing on her lawn, and Holly on theirs. The other woman was wearing paint-stained jeans and a hoodie, loose hair and a smile. Conversely, even from here he could see Holly's chilly air, her crossed arms, shoulders tense beneath another carefully pressed sweater, meticulous despite her off day. The other woman was nodding. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The man, husband, was still carrying boxes in from the lawn to his house. All those boxes! Who even needed that many things, he wondered. Holly would throw a fit if they had all that shit out in the house. They probably did, all in all- in the basement, at least. Boxes leftover from whatever scrap of life he'd had before this one.

He had been watching the man carry things for quite some time, he realized, as Holly was coming back in through the door and Pepper as well, dressed and ready for football practice. He turned away, sharply, from the window, letting his gaze flit back once before settling on Holly.

\- They, she announced, - are a simply delightful family, and we will be having supper with them tomorrow.

\- Good! Graham feigned brightness.

\- I was just talking to Suzi. The man's name is Damon, I saw him very briefly in passing. They're not married- she made a face, - but they've been together for nearly 20 years, so...

\- So, the girl's their daughter?

\- Yes, she nodded. - Missy. She's the same age as Pepper, and she'll be attending Stanway as well.

\- Hrmm, Pepper said.

\- Did you catch where they're from?

\- Leytonstone, apparently.

\- In London?

\- Yes, Graham, in London, she sighed. Yet again, there were so clearly more words lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump out at him. He almost wanted her to lose it. Maybe it'd take his fear away. God, he was sick.

\- Are you ready to go, Pepper? Holly asked.

\- Yes, mum.

\- You have everything you need?

\- Yes.

She nodded. - Why don't you go ahead and get in the car, then. I'll be out in a moment.

Pepper dashed out the door, bag against her chest, and Graham had half a mind to dash after her. Don't leave me alone her, he thought weakly. Holly had her 'we-need-to-talk' face on. That rarely led to something happy and uplifting.

\- Graham, we need to talk.

Bingo.

\- Look, I know that we're both... she paused, seeming to search for the right words to say, - at our wit's end with each other lately. Especially after-

They both looked down. Graham wrapped his arm around to grasp his elbow, tugging awkwardly.

\- I know, he said quietly.

\- But this family... she was still thinking. - I want them to like us, Graham. Do you understand what I'm saying?

\- Yes, he sighed. He did, actually, have an inkling understanding of what she was saying. They were their last ditch attempt at maintaining normalcy. Holly's normalcy, at least. The other neighbors were kind, but they knew about the miscarriages. The failures. The fights. It was unspoken, but so, so, so there. It was like this invisible storm cloud that hung over them everywhere they went, another month, another 'God, Holly, Graham, I can't even imagine how rough this is on you two...'

Their first try had been stillborn. How were you supposed to look each other in the eyes with love when one of you had to give birth to your dead son? How was that fair?

He pulled her into a hug, then, and while she was more cold and stony than a statue she buried her face in his neck, like she used to, and whispered, - I do love you, you know.

\- I do, he said back. However true that was. When she pulled away she was smiling sadly, eyes just a touch red.

\- God, my makeup, she sniffled.

\- It's just football practice, he reassured her. - I'm sure the other mums aren't judging you for a bit of smeared makeup.

Holly leaned over him, reaching for her bag. As she walked out the door she muttered, - They're always judging me, Graham.

Graham stood there for a little while longer, in the emptiness and quietness of the house, feeling the shadows surround him. He didn't know how they were going to get out of this. If they even could. He took a deep breath, then let it out.

Holly had told him after the last miscarriage that she was tired of fighting. Fighting what? he'd asked. Fighting for us, she'd said.

What were you supposed to say to that?

He moved to stand at the window again. Holly's car was gone now, as was the neighbor's moving van. There were still piles of boxes on the lawn. The three neighbors carried them efficiently like a little row of ants. He really did get what Holly was talking about. Wanting the neighbors to like them. They seemed like such a nice family. There was a clean slate between them.

It was then that he decided to go over and offer his assistance. It was the neighborly thing to do. He also wanted to get a scope on these people, but he wouldn't say that out loud, of course.

He traded out his slippers and pajamas for jeans and his Abyss shirt (the one Holly had once forbidden him from wearing), a pair of old tennis shoes. He mussed up his hair in the mirror, scrunching his nose. He looked normal enough, he supposed. Holly was the master at hiding their pain, but he'd built up enough of a wall of his own. He sighed, again, and walked out the door.

It was the wife- Suzi, her name was Suzi- who spotted and greeted him first.

\- Hello! she reached across the pavement dividing their yards, extending her hand in warm neighborly amicability. - You're Holly's husband, aren't ya?

He nodded, smiling as friendly as he could muster up. - She said she came over and introduced herself, figured I'd- he gestured -do the same.

\- Well, I'm Suzi Winstanley, it's a pleasure to meet you.

\- Graham Coxon, a pleasure to meet you, too.

\- We were just- she looked over her shoulder, at the girl, her daughter, carrying boxes- you know, finishing up moving all this stuff in.

\- Actually, that's why I, uh, came over, mostly, I saw you folks still had a lot of boxes, I was going to offer my help.

\- Oh, I wouldn't... she trailed off, glancing back and forth between him and the piles and piles and piles of boxes.

\- Heaven and hell, it's nothing, he grinned. - Beats writing work emails, eh?

In actuality, he had finished up the rest of said work emails for the design firm he worked at earlier in the day, but this seemed to be a pretty good relatable anecdote and made Suzi laugh knowingly.

\- Well, alright then!

She walked back up to her house, where many of the boxes were just outside. It was then that the husband- not husband, her boyfriend, partner, Damon?- came running out the door, sprinting, really.

\- Day-

\- I forgot something at the old house!

\- Damon, the drive to London is like an hour long!

He turned around mid-run, grinning wildly. - I'll be back for dinner, I- I promise.

\- What did ya even forget?

\- My bell! The, uh, the big one.

Graham watched her mouth fall open. - I swear to God, you are not driving all that way for a frickin' bell-

\- Love ya, Suz! See ya in a bit! he hopped in his car, pausing to roll down the window. - Bye, Missy!

The teen girl waved at him from the lawn, smiling. - Bye, Dad!

Suzi shook her head. - Just- okay, okay, drive safe, right?

The window rolled up while he was nodding. He blew a kiss, and sped off.

Suzi watched the road, appalled, before turning to Graham. - Well, that's Damon, for you, she shook her head. - I can't think of any better way for you to meet him.

\- He seems to be...quite the character.

She scoffed, still sort of grinning, though. - Quite, and then she clapped her hands. - You know, it's actually really great that you're over here now, since we've just lost another pair of hands.

Missy laughed.

\- Can you start with these boxes? Just set them down anywhere in the first room, thanks. You'll see where the others are.

She herself picked up what appeared to be a duvet set. Graham picked up the first box he saw- labelled "D's misc. shite" - and followed her inside.

It was a mess, to say the least. Huge pieces of furniture sat in the middle of the hallway, a feng shui nightmare, all loaded with instruments, art easels, multiple Burberry coats, an ancient looking TV, and, weirdly, a huge paper-mache model of what appeared to be a tropical island. He tried not to stare- really, tried- but Suzi barely seemed to be paying any attention, humming to herself and weaving between the stacks to set the duvet set down on top of an upturned bed pushed against the back wall.

\- Right over there's good, she pointed to another pile of boxes across the room, all with the same label as his box. There were a startling amount of boxes with that label. - I know it's a bit hectic in here.

\- Well, he said.

\- We've lived in the same apartment in London forever, you know, I mean, literally, forever, it was Damon's childhood home that he bought back from his parents after we got married. Half of this crap is his, he's been hoarding it all his life, she explained. - I wanted to throw it out, fresh start or whatever, but he couldn't part with any of it.

\- It's- it appears to be an amazing collection, though.

She looked around, one hand on her hip. - Yeah, and I haven't the foggiest idea where we're gonna put any of it. She took one final glance around, then made her way back to the door. - No matter, though, I figure we should just get it all inside before it rains or something.

\- Is it supposed to rain later?

\- Well, I don't know, she said, and smiled. He smiled back, oddly, and they went back outside, where Missy was leaning against the side of the house, engrossed in her telephone.

\- C'mon, Missy, help us carry stuff, her mother hit her on the arm.

Missy groaned, - Why.

\- Cause I need all the help I can get while your dad is gone, she insisted.

\- It really was the best bell in his collection, you know, she half-snickered. - The one that he left.

\- I'm sure.

\- You shouldn't get mad at him.

\- I'm not mad at him, Missy.

\- Oh okay, she rolled her eyes.

\- Pick up a box and help, Suzi was glaring.

\- Fine, she reached down at her feet to pick up a box that said "M's bedroom." - I was joking, anyways.

\- Graham, Suzi said, louder. - I'd love for you to meet my wonderful daughter, Missy. Really delightful, isn't she?

\- Oh, he grinned. - I've got a daughter her age, so.

\- That's what Holly was telling me! She goes to Stanway, doesn't she? Suzi asked.

\- Yup.

\- Well, she patted her daughter on the back. - Looks like there's already someone you'll know tomorrow.

Graham, honestly, did not think his moody, introverted daughter would much like making friends with someone her mother and the other girl's mother would probably force together, but he didn't point that out. He picked up another box- "kicthen," misspelled and in a different handwriting than the others.

\- Oh, is that one of the kitchen boxes? Suzi asked.

Graham looked down at it. - I figure that's what it was getting at.

\- Go ahead and put that one in the kitchen, won't you? Thanks.

\- Course. He went back into the house, passing through the cluttered living room and into the slightly barer kitchen. He set the box down on the floor, pausing to look around again. The house was similar to how his had been before the remodel, and he couldn't say he liked it any more or less which way. The walls were a stark eggshell white. Holly had painted their kitchen yellow, citing the eggshell white as the color of asylums.

He and Suzi continued carrying boxes, with minimal help from Missy, for quite some time, until all that was left on the lawn was the player piano.

\- Are we keeping it? Missy asked.

\- You'll have to ask your dad when he gets back, Suzi grimaced, staring at it. - It is his, after all.

\- He won't scrap it.

\- Well, she bit her lip. - He might have to. I can't imagine it being playable anymore.

Missy swung her leg over the piano bench, pausing before slamming her hands down on the keys, producing a monstrous, dissonant sound. Graham laughed a little.

\- It plays!

\- That's hardly quantitative, Missy, she rolled her eyes.

\- If Dad says he wants to get rid of it can I put it in my room?

\- Sure, Suzi said. - If you learn how to play it.

\- You're mean.

Suzi patted her on the head and laughed. Graham felt vaguely happy. As if on cue, Holly's car rolled up into the driveway. He balked. Christ, it had been nearly two hours already. She stepped out of the car with a scowl, violently swinging her bag over the seat. Pepper followed meekly.

\- Graham? she shouted across the way. - What are you doing?

\- He was just helping us move the rest of the boxes, Suzi shouted back as Holly stalked over to them.

\- Oh, Holly looked around. - Well.

\- Um...

\- Hey, you're Pepper, right? Suzi said quickly, smiling.

Pepper dropped her head. - Uh huh.

\- Pepper, Holly elbowed her, speaking quietly. - Posture.

Suzi and Missy glanced at each other warily as Pepper miserably straightened her back, all the while under Holly's incessant glare.

\- I'm going to Stanway, too, Missy offered.

\- Cool, Pepper chewed her lip.

\- It's a good school, yeah?

\- Sure, she shrugged. - It's okay.

There were a few more moments of awkward silence. Finally Suzi spoke.

\- Holly, I know that you invited us over for dinner tomorrow night, but I got a call from my mum earlier. She lives in Colchester- that's mostly why we moved, of course- and she wants to have us over tomorrow."

\- Oh, that's-

\- Why don't you just come over tonight, then? Graham said, surprising everyone, most of all himself.

Holly gave him the stink eye. Suzi seemed flustered.

\- Why, I don't mean to-

\- No! I mean, it'll be great! It's not like your house is any state to eat in right now, and it's not like we don't have enough room at our table for three more, he grinned. - It'll be great, right, Holly?

She smiled as best she could, but it still came out an ugly grimace. - Splendid.

\- Oh, that would be great then! God, you lot are just too kind, Suzi shook her head. - No one in London does stuff like this, you know. They've forgotten what it means to be neighborly.

\- Well, Holly said.

\- And you're sure we're not intruding?

\- Not at all.

\- Not...at...all... Holly echoed him, turning around. - In fact, I think I'll go get started on dinner now, she paused. - Pepper, come with me and help, okay? then she looked back at Graham, annoyance, quite possibly hatred, brimming out of her eyes, spilling down her face. - Maybe Graham can help them move anything else they have.

\- Oh, I think we're alright now. Thank you, though.

Holly tilted her head. - You're sure?

\- Yeah.

\- Splendid, she repeated through clenched teeth.

Graham watched, in fear, as she dragged Pepper up into the house. Oh God, he was thinking. What have I done. I've unleashed the beast. I've awoken the Kraken. I just switched up the plan without asking her, and now she's going to kill me.

Suzi was saying something, and then she tapped on his shoulder.

\- Huh? he said.

\- What time should we come over?

\- Oh, er- let me go ask Holly.

She began to say something along the lines of Don't trouble yourself but he shushed her, and trudged up to the house, slightly quivering.

He stuck his head in the doorway. Holly was over the sink again, angrily peeling carrots.

\- What? she spat at him.

\- What time should they be over for dinner?

She closed her eyes, looking upwards, like a prayer to God. - Six o' clock.

\- Okay. All right, he spoke carefully. - And Holly?

\- Yes, Graham?

He was about to say something rude- that he was just doing what she had told him to do, being neighborly, being likable- but there was something in her eyes that wasn't just hatred, or anger, anymore. It was exhaustion.

I'm tired of fighting for us.

\- I love you, he said simply.

She took a deep breath, then smiled a very genuine smile. - I love you, too, Graham.

He walked over to her, and she turned away from the sink, allowing him to lean down and place a small kiss on her dry lips. After a few seconds she tensed up again, obviously all too long too soon, and he pulled away.

\- I'm sorry, I can't- she mumbled, turning back to the sink. She placed her hands on either side and pressed her body weight into it, eyes closed again. He shook his head, squeezing her shoulder as appreciatively as he could. What else was he to do?

\- It's okay. I understand.

\- No, she was staring straight down into the garbage disposal. - You don't.

He felt unsure what to do again. He felt uncomfortable watching her, he knew that, because it was overwhelmingly private, a moment of rare vulnerability she never wanted him to see. She wasn't crying- she cried in front of him all the time- but it was like the part of her that was dead inside had come to the surface, and only then could he see what a large part of her it really was. Three times, their children had died inside of her. She was a vessel for death. It was written in her face, etched plainly, then, for him to see.

\- I'll be right back, he said, shaken to the core. He needed to get out. He couldn't see her like this anymore.

He ran out the door. Suzi and Missy were nowhere to be seen; still feeling sick, he crossed the lawns up to their doorway, which was now shut. He knocked on it and waited. When it swung open he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

\- Oh, hey! Suzi said.

\- Dinner is at six o' clock.

\- Awesome, she said, her voice bright. When was the last time Holly had spoken without a shadow in her voice?

He blinked, hard. You can't compare your wife to the neighbor. Wasn't that in the Bible? Fuck all if he cared, but whatever.

\- We're just trying to unpack right now, you know, she laughed. - A bit hard when the man most of it belongs to isn't even here.

\- Oh, will your... he froze. Christ, husband, boyfriend, partner, what was his name?

\- Damon should be back by six, yeah, Suzi nodded. He half-expected a glare for his social faux-pas but she was still beaming up at him.

\- Great! he said. - Great.

\- Well...

\- Well, I'll leave you to your- he swallowed - unpacking.

\- See you in a while!

\- Yup!

He stumbled back a bit, off the pavement and on to the grass. The door closed. The yard was now only illuminated by the dying light of the sun above, the soft glow of the houses through curtains. He started walking to his driveway, then splintered off in the opposite direction, on to the pavement, a spur of the moment decision mostly inspired by really not being ready to go home again after triggering Holly's panic attack or whatever that had been. God, it made him queasy when she smiled like that...

He walked until the pavement ended, out on the edge of the neighborhood where the freeway began. He blinked. Cars appeared and disappeared within the span of seconds, and this made him feel safe. He felt safe in the face of his own insignificance. He'd be damned if he could explain it. Right then he just wanted to stand there and feel the weight of the world sink into him for a moment. He was human, after all. The trees winked at him from across the motorway. He was going to be dead someday, can you believe the mess I've made

His phone beeped. A text from Pepper. Mum wants to know where you are, it read. He wondered why Holly didn't just text him herself. He supposed she didn't think it would have the same effect. What is wrong with her? he thought quickly, without, really, much thought, before remembering why and mentally kicking himself.

Coming home in a jif, he texted back.

This was partially true, as it was after five when he finally returned. Holly was still in the kitchen.

\- Sorry, he explained lamely. - I just went out for a lil' walk.

Not even turning around to look at him, Holly said, "Ah."

He said nothing back.

\- I'm making cheese tortellini and roasted vegetables, she stirred a pot with gummy white liquid in it. - Hopefully the neighbors will like it.

\- Most people like cheese tortellini, he said, folding his lips, his arms behind his back.

\- Hmm, she mumbled something incoherent back, under her breath. He assumed it was one of those things it was better he didn't hear. That's what she would tell him, had he asked. It would be something along those lines.

\- Maybe you should go get ready for supper, she spoke up again.

\- What's wrong with what I've got on?

She looked back at him, staring intently at the Abyss shirt he had on. - You've owned that shirt since college.

\- It's a good shirt, he said, raising his eyebrows. - That's why it's lasted me 20 years.

\- I don't know why you insist on embarrassing me.

\- Embarrassing you? he squinted. - They won't care.

\- I care, Graham, but then she threw her hands up. - Whatever. Really, whatever. I don't even care.

He sighed. - I'll change, okay?

\- No. Don't. I don't want it to be an issue.

\- I'll change! he said again, and then they were looking at each other like they weren't even talking about the shirt anymore.

\- Just...leave, she muttered, turning back to the stove. Twice in one hour, Graham thought. They were on a fucking streak.

He walked heavily back up the stairs, feeling more a teenager than he had when he was 17. There was something about Holly that brought that out in him; possibly her ability to simultaneously put him down and guilt him. She was ten times worse than his actual mother had ever been. God rest her soul.

Music still reverberated out of Pepper's room, and when he passed by he could make out faint snarls that sounded an awful lot like the Arctic Monkeys, which made him kind of smile again. Sometimes he felt like Pepper was someone he would be friends with, had she not been his daughter. Her hatred of Holly had leaked into their relationship, and she was chillier to him in the past two years than she used to be. They used to drive around in the car in the afternoons after he'd picked her up from school, stopping in the McDonald's drive-thru and always, always getting McFlurries, and he'd play her all his favorite bands, which quickly became hers, too. The Pixies, Arctic Monkeys, Radiohead, Nick Cave, PJ Harvey, the Smiths, the Who, the Cure, Ray Davies: anything and everything she could get her hands on, she gobbled up, musically. That part of her hadn't left, but she had stopped sharing it with him.

Holly wasn't her real mum, as it went. Her real mum was a junkie named Laura he had met at a bad time in his life. She'd split town once Pepper was born. She'd said she was going out for milk, that morning she had left their tiny apartment. How fucking cliche, right? But then there was Holly. The beautiful, smart, mature Holly he'd dated for a year in college, just moving back into town, and drawn inexplicably to him and his baby girl. He should've known back then, the real reason she would've wanted to marry at him, just months after seeing him again for the first time in years. Other women would've run from Graham and his dingy existence burdened by a crack baby, but not Holly. Because it was the baby she wanted. That dead thing inside of her wouldn't give her a child of her own, so she took Graham's. Who was he to say no? Her parents were rich beyond belief; they gave them everything normal they could ever want, even the house he lived in.

And Holly- God, she tried so hard to be the best mother she could to Pepper.

But she was never hers, truly.

When they'd started trying for a baby two years ago, even though they'd supposedly decided when they'd married they never would, Pepper had grown hostile. In her mind, Holly had been using her as a stand-in for the real thing, and once she had what she really wanted, the baby that was undeniably hers, she would cast Pepper aside. How accurate those sentiments were, they'd never know now, as the likelihood of that baby ever coming-to-be now was highly unlikely. Or so the doctors said. Holly, however hard she tried not to be, was old, and had the dead thing inside of her. As it went.

He still felt sick. Thinking about all of this wasn't helping. Why was he thinking about all of this, right then? He was supposed to be at dinner in 15 minutes, and be the husband Holly so desperately needed him to be. Needed? Wanted. He was a crap husband.

He yanked the Abyss shirt off, tossing it to the floor in a crumple, and walked over to his closet for a button-down or something. Neither Suzi, Missy, or even Damon in passing had seemed like button-down people. Regardless, he grabbed a crisp white button-down, then, for the hell of it, as he reckoned he might as well go all out, a red boating sweater, a black blazer, and brown trousers.

Holly nodded approvingly when she saw him. - See? You look nice, she said, but she sounded like I told you so. And why? He could dress up if he damn well pleased.

She herself was wearing tan chinos and a patterned blouse. Her blonde hair was swept up and away from her face, making her look fine and severe, as usual. She brought dishes to the table in red flats, her feet shushing slightly against the hard wood of the dining room. He offered to fetch napkins. Soon the table was set, and the food did actually look quite good, but that was what Holly had set upon herself to perfect, instead of getting a job, so that was that. She turned the lights down a bit.

\- Where's Pepper? she asked.

\- In her room, I assume.

She harrumphed. - I sent her up to get dressed nearly half an hour ago. It's six o' clock already!

On cue, there was a smattering of footsteps down the staircase, and Pepper appeared, wearing a black dress. Holly sighed.

\- Thank you for brushing your hair, she said as Pepper sat down at the end of the table.

\- When are the neighbors arrivin'? she asked.

\- Pronunciation!

\- When are the guests arriving?

\- Any minute now, Graham said, and true to his word, the doorbell rang. Holly straightened up sharply, putting on a smile before she even saw them, and walked briskly into the foyer to get the door.

A cold draft blew in, prompting Graham to shiver. He could hear Suzi, laughing brightly again, and Missy's charming quips. Holly was most likely leading them into the new coatroom first, and then to the dining room. Pepper played with napkin, tearing and crimping it at the edges. The air was stagnant again.

\- Hello, again! Suzi waved. She was wearing dark jeans and a white blouse, somewhat dressed up, but nowhere near what Holly was expecting, of course. This all made him slightly smug, in a sick way.

\- Hey! he grinned. - Have a seat!

Missy went and sat down beside Pepper. She immediately started talking, pointing at the napkin and blathering at a million miles per hour. Holly was at the head of the table, of course, so Graham took the seat to her left. Suzi sat between Holly and Missy, leaving one empty chair between him and Pepper.

\- Is Damon here? he frowned, looking at the chair. Suzi sighed, rolling her eyes a bit.

\- Who knows, she murmured. - I get one text from him all afternoon, and it's just a picture of that stupid bell.

Holly looked at her quizzically.

\- Dad drove back to our old house in Leytonstone for his favorite bell.

\- Bell...?

\- Damon collects antique bells. If he decides to show tonight you can ask and he'll tell you all about it. Suzi laughed again. Holly still looked somewhat confused. This, Graham conculded, was to be expected.

\- Shall we...wait for him? she asked weakly.

\- Oh, Suzi shrugged. - We shouldn't. Maybe it'll teach him a lesson about commitment!

Graham and Holly did an odd thing, which was to look at each other in mutual vague judginess, because why Suzi would choose a word like 'commitment' was somewhat telling, in the Land of Suburbia. Graham and Holly had one thing going for them, and that was their commitment to the word commitment. It was the one thing Graham could really give Holly.

They talked a little while longer, mostly about nothing, the adults on their end and Missy and Pepper on theirs. The two girls, it seemed, were actually getting along quite well together, as Missy would interject herself into the adults' conversation every few minutes and Pepper would stare at her with a dumbfounded smile on her face. This was a good development, Graham decided. Maybe this would get Pepper out of her moody shell.

It was maybe ten minutes of all this when everyone really starting eyeing the food, the bowls of pasta and potatoes and carrots and what have you, pretty tantalizing after a day with little food, at least on his part.

\- Really, I think it's fine if we go ahead and start eaing without Damon, Suzi insisted. - He won't care.

Holly was obviously torn, as this was against everything she'd ever learned about being a good hostess, but soon her predicament was ended as the doorbell rang again. Once, twice, thrice, and she stood up from her seat and dashed to the door. Graham's eyes practically salivated, staring at the food. Oh my God, why won't she hurrryyy uppp

Into the dining room Holly appeared again, smiling tightly. Damon followed.

\- Wow, he whistled. - I really am under dressed.

As it went, he was wearing cargo pants and a ratty tee shirt that was pulled down his chest quite a bit. He smelled like dry sweat; not unpleasantly so, just prominently.

\- To be fair, he continued, moving like a bit like a crab behind Holly to take the seat beside Graham. - I only just got your text, Suzi, telling me to come over here instead of home.

Suzi gave him a look that looked an awful lot like Holly's Shut up.

\- Better late than never, of course! Holly said awkwardly.

\- That's D's motto, for sure, Suzi looked at him across the table, over her glass of water, smirking. He mouthed an apology.

\- All right, well, Holly clapped her hands. - There's cheese tortellini, here and here, and vegetables, and salad-

Forks and plates immediately started clattering, which Graham briefly noticed put a small, self-satisfied grin on Holly's face, but only briefly, because he was mostly completely preoccoupied with eating of the food by then.

Once portions had been divvied up Damon turned in his chair to eye Graham. - I don't believe that we have met, he said, the beginnings of a smile woven into his mouth. It was a rather ridiculous mouth, Graham thought the second he saw it. No man needed a mouth that big and cherry-colored. Still...he looked away quickly, down to his plate and shaking his head.

\- Er, no, he swallowed. - I'm Graham.

He was really smiling, then. - Damon.

\- Graham helped us all afternoon, carrying boxes, Suzi offered. - While you were gone.

\- Hey, speaking of which, Dad, did you get your bell back?

\- I did! his eyes positively sparkled. Graham noticed they were blue. He had to drag his gaze away again. - It's a great story, too, he paused a moment, chewing, thinking. - First, you know, the bloody drive, uh, an hour, such a bear, and I get to the apartment and already the guy we sold it to is there- he slammed his hands on the table -this fuc- erm, this drug addict sleazeball, with a wife beater and, uh, a wife he's certainly beating, you know what I mean, and he goes off on me- me!- for leaving the bell. He calls it an eyesore- he scoffed - Even though it had been there, what, like, a few hours? So we exchanged words, and I find out he's dragged it out on to the back lawn and had, uh, you know, planned on getting it towed away to a dump! I was so pissed, right then- he laughed. - And if I were twenty years younger I would've kicked the snot out of him. But, you know, I'm old, so I just kind of sort of pulled the car 'round and hauled it in the back seat, and he, uh, he ended up helping me get it in, so I supose that's my lesson for the day, uh, about judging books by their covers. He took a deep breath. - Then, course, that all added to the time, and driving back in traffic was just hell, and then I, ha, get a text from you, Suz, about dinner- which is just lovely, by the way, your house is, um, beautiful- and that is the long story short. He squinted. - Not really so short, but, uh, you get m-my point, though.

\- And after all that there's still no place for that bell in the house, Suzi said.

\- She doesn't fancy my bell collection, he stabbed a roasted piece of carrot with his fork. - Absolutely bonkers, she is.

Holly laughed uneasily. - Suzi mentioned your bell collection...

He started nodding again, enthusiastically. - You see, here's the thing" he twiddled his fork, lost in thought, again. - A number of years ago I had, uh, delusions of grandeur, and thought I could get, uh, the whole chromatic scale in bells this size- he stretched his arms out wide - and I- I thought that I could construct them on the top of the, em, the apartment building, you know, and we had ravens here, and I thought on stormy nights I could be up there with my cape, ringing the bells.

\- Bloody hell, Graham muttered. He was folded in on himself somewhat, slouching, and Damon was leaning in over the table and sat up quite a bit so he had to twist to glance down behind him.

\- What? he was grinning.

Graham suddenly felt a memory slam against him, squarely in the face, like something he hadn't even realized had happened to him but was now consuming him.

They were sitting on the bridge together, legs dangling over the river, and he was folded in on himself somewhat, slouching, and the other boy was leaning in over the edge and sat up quite a bit, so he had to twist to look him in the eyes as he was scoffing at something he'd just said.

"Wot?" he was grinning slyly.

"Gi'e me the bottle back, ya twat," he wrestled for it, where the other boy was holding it behind his back and cackling evilly.

"You'll make me fall in!"

He blinked rapidly, remembering to breathe again, and the memory- which was so vivid, so real- dissipated, and that was left was Damon, staring at him oddly.

\- Uh...

\- Oi, Dad, show them the napkin trick! Pepper doesn't believe you can do it.

Damon turned away, and Graham went back to his plate, which was very normal and not weird or questionable by Holly or anyone. He needed a second to compose himself after that...whatever the hell that was. It wasn't really a memory; he knew that. None of that had ever happened to him. But he had felt it. He couldn't get over how real it all felt, honest to God. It was less a memory and more a blip, like he'd slipped out of time for a moment. Like he had been there, on that bridge, with wine and that boy...

Holly hadn't noticed, at least. If she thought anything was wrong with him- wrong in the sense that he might act out and draw attention to them- she would find a way to put him on medication, no questions asked. She would ship him off to the loony bin if she had to.

He just had to hope this never, ever happened again.

Well. Maybe hope was a bit strong of a word.

Because that blip, that moment, he had felt...happy. Really happy. Inexplicably happy. Positively joyous, and at peace.

Did he want it to happen again?

He realized that to anyone watching he'd just been sitting there with wide eyes for the past two minutes or so, not really moving, so he scooted forward in his chair and started shoveling food from his plate to his mouth, looking up and laughing every few seconds, stopping once in awhile to offer his view on whatever subject they were talking about, and it was that easy to pretend nothing had happened.

\- So, Graham, I was telling Suzi earlier a little bit about the design firm you work at, Holly prompted, taking a sip of wine.

\- Ah. Yes, he nodded as the eyes of the table swung to look at him. - Polar Creative. In Chelmsford.

\- So...what do you do, there? Suzi asked.

\- Em... he shrugged. - Brand crafting, website design, printing marketing material. Pretty standard stuff.

\- It sounds fascinating, Damon said. He was sort of staring so hard at Graham that his eyes seemed to bore holes and go straight through him. Don't look at me as though I'm not here.

\- It can be, he kept his eyes trained on his plate. - There's also a lot of tedious work, you know, as with any job, I guess. It pays well, though, so... he shrugged again, laughing a little bit. Holly seemed a bit mortified- no religion talk, no money talk, she swore up and down, were the keys to successful dinner parties- but their guests were laughing, too, so she visibly eased up somewhat.

\- Damon, what do you do? Holly asked.

Missy piped up, excited. - He's a voice actor. It's so so so cool, he's on all these audio books and adverts-

\- It's not that cool, Damon seemed a bit embarrassed, as everyone started talking over one another with questions and flapping arms and the like. He hid behind his water glass, his other hand folded over his thigh, his thumb resting on the fly of his jeans. It was probably unconscious, so Graham had no reason to stare at it. He wasn't staring at it. He wasn't. Oh my God oh my...

\- Voice acting? Holly finally said, louder than everyone else. - Come now, you have to tell us all about that.

He swallowed another drink of water- his lips were wet now, and an even darker pink- and he paused, which Graham was beginning to note as commonplace with him, these prolonged pauses where he stopped to think about whatever he was going to say. He sort of had a dumb smile on his face when he did so.

\- Okay, so, I w-went- well, I went to acting college, and I guess I did like acting, but acting didn't much like...me...but I had this one teacher, who, er, she thought my voice- he grinned -had a lot of potential, and, uh, whatnot, so she really, uhhh, started pushing me to do auditions and stuff for adverts on the telly, and I got booked with this one company- another long pause - and what I do is they give me a book, I read it through first, if I haven't already, and I go into the little recording booth and spend the whole week reading it into the microphone. Then they piece it all together, package it, er, sell it, you know, and it's, uh, it's an audio book!

\- That sounds intense, Pepper muttered.

\- Well, yeah, I- I mean, it's really not anywhere near as cool or intense as it all sounds, he said, but he was still grinning. - And the TV adverts are the worst, 'cos ya m-might, uh, have to repeat one line, over and over and over again 'til it's just the way they like it.

\- Of course, it pays very well, though, Suzi laughed, as did everyone else again, even Holly.

\- Yeah, he rubbed the back of his neck. - I get, er, the, uh, royalties from all the stuff they sell, plus, course, the flat fee for doing it to begin with.

There a few stifled seconds as the table picked at their plates, and Graham said, - Well, as long as we're going around the table, Suzi, what do you do?

\- I'm a wildlife painter.

Once again there were overlapping questions and flapping arms, and Graham was wondering how any one family could be this cool and jet setting. Jet setting in the context of Colchester, of course.

Holly had asked something, and Suzi was nodding and saying, - I've done it since college with my partner Olly. We travel somewhere new every few months-

\- Around the world?

\- Yep, she twisted her smile. - And I mean to be humble, like Damon, but, uh...it is, actually, like, the best job in the world.

\- Wow! Holly seemed captivated. - Would I recognize any of your art?

\- Well, depends on how many art museums in London you've been to, she laughed. - I'm not exactly Audubon, of course.

-Still, Holly said.

\- Er...I mean, you can really come over to the house anytime- once we've got everything set up, haha- and see them then, I should have like maybe three or four hung up?

\- Three or four? Damon asked.

\- If you can have your bell collection, I can have my artwork, Suzi said, making everyone laugh, although judging from the look that was on Suzi's face right then, Graham wasn't quite sure a laugh was the best reaction. The look on her face, he noted, is the look that Holly gives me when I've done something to right piss her off. Granted, that look was perfectly at home in a good percentage of their conversations, but he hadn't associated it with Damon and Suzi so far, which made him kind of stupidly sad. Emphasis on stupidly. Only a fucking idiot could be so naive as to think that any couple was happy and perfect all the time. But was he so fucking idiotic to think that maybe this couple was different from him and Holly? That maybe they were going to be okay?

He was overreacting. It was one subtextual look, nothing else. Besides, everyone was smiling and joking around again, like it had been nothing. It had been nothing.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe it wasn't. That, coupled with his weird psychotic break earlier, and Holly's dead-baby-induced panic attack, left him feeling quite ill. His hunger before dinner had settled into a knot at the bottom of his stomach, and he could do little but pick at the food on his plate. What was wrong with him? Maybe Holly was right. Maybe he really was losing it.

The night waned on, as they do, and it was around 7:30 that the dinner had reached it's natural death, and there weren't many small things left to talk about, and Holly had begun to clear plates from the table.

Their guests stood up. Missy and Pepper were still lost in conversation- Pepper, talking happily, he could barely believe his eyes- but he was mostly watching Holly and Suzi, who were in the kitchen, conversing quietly between themselves. Damon elbowed him.

\- They're talkin' about us, you know.

\- I do, Graham looked up at him nervously. As it went, he was mainly nervous because of Damon, but he wasn't about to go around broadcasting that fact, lest of all to Damon himself.

\- It's 'cos I pissed her off, he sighed, shaking his head. - Did you piss off the missus today, too?

Graham couldn't help but snort. - When have I not?

He was expecting a laugh, as those relatable quips usually earned him, but all he got from Damon was a slightly questioning look.

\- What do you mean?

\- Aw... he laughed, rather uneasily then, thinking, Christ, drop it, forget it. - Nothing.

\- No, really? he looked at Graham rather genuinely.

\- Er... he scratched the back of his head, squinting. - Holly, is a lil' bit, you know, she's... he racked his brain for the least offending word. - She can be irritable.

\- Oh, Damon said. He was thinking again, but seemed sadder, almost. - That sucks.

\- Nah, Graham shook his head. - I mean, she's my wife, right? I love her!

Damon stared at him. - Just 'cos she's your wife doesn't mean you love her.

Before Graham could even react to that doozy, Suzi was calling Damon over, and he dashed to the kitchen, putting on a smile. Graham couldn't even move. What the hell? What even...who says that? Who actually goes up to the neighbor they've known for maybe a few hours, at most, and says something like "Jus' 'cos she's your wife doesn't mean ya love 'er." Who fucking says that?! Damon didn't know who he was! He didn't know what his relationship with Holly was like! He just came out and fucking said it after he half-mentioned that Holly could be irritable. Who did he think he was? Who even...

He was still freaking out when Holly made him come to the door to say goodbye.

\- It's the neighborly thing to do, she'd explained, tugging him on the elbow and out of his stupor. She didn't ask what had happened, which was probably for the best. - Come on.

So he stood beside her, waving as the three neighbors walked down their driveway and across the lawn back to their house. He was still in shock. He watched Damon's retreating form, in just...disbelief. Was he angry? He was definitely angry, but it had begun to fade into just absolute flabbergasted disbelief.

That night in bed, he laid on top of the sheets as Holly washed up in the bathroom. He was staring blankly at the ceiling when she came out.

\- Graham...? she asked hesitantly.

\- Yes?

She sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing lotion into her hands. - Are you all right, honey?

That "honey" sent him over the edge again. He curled on to his side, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the sheets beneath her.

\- Graham, she was laughing, at least.

They sat like that for a few minutes. It was rare, as previously demonstrated, for her to let him touch her like this so long.

\- I had a good time tonight, she said softly. He craned his neck to look up at her.

\- I'm glad.

\- I really like them, she continued. - I think they're going to be great for us.

With anyone else, that was probably an odd sentence to hear, but he did get what she meant. Not personally, of course- he did like Suzi quite a bit, and Missy, but Damon...

He was still in shock. From everything. His head swirled with visions of bridges and wine and Damon saying that, like a punch in the gut.

\- Maybe this should be a weekly thing, she suggested.

\- Maybe, he murmured. If nothing that had happened that night with visions of bridges and wine and Damon saying that happened again.

Finally she untwisted herself from him, and pulled up the blankets to slip under. He rolled off the bed to let her do, then crawled back up. She was giggling. Giggling? Where was the Holly Coxon he had known for the last two years? Had she been slain in the face of new friendships? She reached up to turn her bedside lamp off, and the room fell into darkness.

\- Do you remember when you used to sing me to sleep, in college? she murmured after a few minutes. She spoke as if it were something she had been thinking about for a long time by that point.

\- Yes, he said.

There was more silence, and then she coughed, lightly, and he realized rather stupidly that she wanted him to sing her to sleep again. But what song? He thought hard for a moment, and remembered one, a song that he loved, "Goodnight Laura."

Goodnight Laura? Laura was Pepper's real mother. He'd switch the names.

He took a deep breath and began to sing very softly:

Goodnight Holly, don't you know your bed awaits and now it's time for sleeping?  
Goodnight Holly, close your eyes  
Your words 're meant to stop at night, you know they're not for keeping  
If you want to fall asleep be very still and you close your eyes and slow yourself  
And let the worry leave you, and let go 'f it all just for this evening  
Alright, alright  
You can fall asleep by being very still and you let your breath slow down  
And when you think your thoughts be sure that they are sweet ones  
They are sweet ones  
Don't you know, Holly, you're alright?   
You're alright

When he finished singing, she was asleep, with her hands by her side and not touching him at all. If he were to have leaned in for a kiss, he would've felt the tears staining her cheeks, and maybe he would've known, then, that Damon wasn't all that wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

As it went, it was a Monday the next day, meaning Pepper had to go to school and Graham had to go to work. Even though Pepper didn't like him much anymore, he did still drop her off and pick her up, so there was that. They were all up early the next morning for breakfast, served by Holly.

She had woken up in a slightly less chipper mood than yesterday, and had barely said two words to him, but she wasn't necessarily being unkind, so he figured it was going to be a good day.

\- So, he asked Pepper through a mouthful of porridge. - Anything big going on today?

\- I dunno, she said lamely, picking around her bowl and obviously picking around what she was thinking about. - Missy starts today, so... she shrugged.

\- You and Missy really seemed to hit it off.

\- Yeah, she took a bite of porridge. - She's funny.

\- I was glad to see you two girls talking so much at supper yesterday! Holly sat down at the table with her own breakfast, a smoothie concocted out of a number of indeterminable powders and shakes. - Hopefully she'll have some classes with you.

\- Uh huh.

Holly took a drink of her smoothie before announcing, - Suzi and I are having tea today.

\- Oh, that should be fun, Graham offered.

She nodded affirmatively. - Yes, it will.

He finished up the last bit of his porridge and stood up. - Ready to go, Pepper?

\- Yeah.

He took her bowl and his to the kitchen, placing them carefully in the sink. Pepper was already by the doorway. She played nervously with the straps of her backpack.

\- Goodbye, Holly, he touched her briefly on the shoulder, which he'd learned the hard way was the most physical contact she could handle at eight in the morning.

\- Goodbye, she mumbled distractedly, then, - Have a good day at school, Pepper!

Of course, Pepper was already out the door and halfway down the stoop, and all Graham could offer Holly was a pinched smile, like Kids, what are you gonna do about them? and followed his daughter out.

She wasn't on their lawn, which gave him a mini-heart attack for a second before he spotted her on the neighbors,' talking to Missy, of course.

\- Dad! she called over. - Can I ride with Missy and her mum to school?

\- Er...

\- It's alright with me if it's alright with you! Suzi was beside her car already, in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. She was grinning. Of course.

\- Uh- you're sure?

\- Of course! It's no problem.

Truth be told, he did actually have a big client on this one project, and it would be nice to get to work early.

\- Okay," he nodded. - Okay!

\- Thanks, Dad! Pepper called before she and Missy ran down to Suzi's car, both getting into the back seat. He watched them for a second, waving kind of stupidly as they pulled out on to the street, and then drove away in the opposite direction.

Sighing, he got into his own car. He had a feeling that this was going to become a regular occurrence, Suzi driving the girls to school. It didn't really make him sad, just more bittersweet, than anything. He was going to call it the end of an era, but that era had really, actually, ended two years ago. So maybe he didn't even have anything to be bittersweet about.

His drive to work was a relatively brisk half hour. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and tried hard not to think about anything, but ended up thinking about Damon anyways.

He needed to figure out what had happened at dinner: Damon's still-angering comment but principally the memory-not-memory he'd had. It was almost like a dream; everything had felt like it was actually happening when he'd had it, but once it was over it was hazy, and it was hard to remember what exactly everything looked like. And he still didn't know who the other boy was. He knew it was a boy- his voice had been pitchy with youth, and familiar, oddly. But his face eluded Graham, and he still didn't even know if the point of view he'd seen it all in had been his. He just knew that it had creepily echoed the conversation he'd had with Damon right before, and made him feel happier than he ever had. Normal happenings, right?

The thing was, he really didn't want to just chalk the whole ordeal up as one of life's great insolvable mysteries. He had questions, and he wanted answers. Unfortunately, this wasn't a movie; he didn't have some wise sensei waiting in the wings, or a long-lost aunt who spoke to the dead and could solve his problems. He was going to have to do old-fashioned detective work to find out what had happened.

But where the hell was he even supposed to start?

He pulled into the parking lot, hit the radio off, and let his head hit the wheel. Christ in hell, he muttered to himself.

At least, once again, he could just throw himself into this work project and forget about everything else. He stepped out the car and glanced around a second before beginning to slog the distance to the building. Another mild day. At least there was that. He mumbled a few hellos on the way up to his office, sitting down with a huff. He turned his computer on and got to work.

It had been roughly 8:30 when he'd gotten to work, and it was almost 12 when his boss came in. A tall Scottish woman named Wendy, she terrified him, and he immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up when she appeared in the doorway.

\- Ah heard frae Smith 'at ye cam in early today, she sneered, not even waiting for him to turn around.

\- Yes, he swiveled in his chair. - Is that a problem?

She shrugged. - Ye teel me.

\- I just wanted to get started on the Pembrooke account.

\- Hmm, her high heels clacked, antagonizing, across the floor, to right behind him, looking down at his computer. He closed his eyes, like waiting for a dragon to do its damage. - Workin' hard, ah see.

He had, in fact, been reading the Wikipedia page on lucid dreaming, part of his pointless research for the memory-not-memory. It had been fruitless, and that was driven home even more as Wendy leaned over his shoulder, nostrils flaring. He clicked back to the InDesign page he had the project in.

\- See? I've gotten a lot of work done, he showed her.

\- Aa'm sure yoo'd gie e'en mair dain if ye werenae lookin' at... she stared at the tabs he had open. - Lucid dreamin' an' Slaughterhoose-Fife.

The latter had been based off a hunch, that maybe he actually had come unstuck in time, like Billy Pilgrim. It was a stupid idea, obviously, and, again, seemed even more stupid with Wendy here.

\- Look, I'm sorry, no more personal time.

\- Coxon, dae ye ken 'at by daein' non-work related things oan yer wark computer durin' wark hoors ye ur stealin' bunsens frae th' company?

He gritted his teeth. - ...how, exactly?

\- Waur ye nae haur fur th' leadership meetin' tois months ago?

\- I wasn't invited, as a matter o' fact.

She narrowed her eyes. - Ye gie paid fur workin.' Th' company doesnae pay ye tae dae yer ain things, okay?

\- Of course, he looked back down. - I'm sorry. It won't happen again.

\- Yoo're reit it willnae happen again.

He stared at his computer screen until he heard the clacks of her walking away, and then he buried his face in his hands. Christ in hell.

He dragged things around in the InDesign document for another hour or so, not really focusing or making progress, just killing time. He needed to get out for his lunch break. He needed to get far, far away.

Thankfully, he saw no Wendy or any other twat superiors on his way out, only Smith, who he had half a mind to kick in the shins as he grinned smugly at him.

He had a migraine.

He walked out the building again, sort of stumbling on to the street, and annoyedly noted how much sunnier it was than earlier. He did, actually, know for a fact that he had a pair of sunglasses in his car, and while he recalled faintly that they might actually have been Holly's, he was beyond caring. His temples throbbed like he was hungover, and he hadn't even drank alcohol yesterday. Reaching back into his car, he stuck the sunglasses on- they weren't Holly's, because they had his prescription in the lenses, but they still looked an awful lot like women's sunglasses, which kind of peeved him but not enough to leave them in the car.

Getting out, he paused a moment to glance around him again. This wasn't really a bad neighborhood but he had an inexplicable feeling that something bad was about to happen. Sure enough, a figure was walking down the street, a figure that was no other man than Damon Albarn.

Fuck, he thought. Don't notice me don't notice me don't notice me...

\- Oi! Graham!

He cringed, internally, and looked up to see Damon smiling, waving, running across the street to see him.

\- Fancy seeing you here! he gaped. - Wow.

\- Wow, yes.

\- Innit that a coincidence? Neighbors and, well, I'm assuming you work here, he pointed up at the Polar Creative building. Graham nodded. - The building my agency is based at is right over here, he jabbed his thumb behind him. - So I was just out taking a walk, and lo and behold I see you!

\- Crazy coincidence... Graham murmured.

\- So you out on your lunch break?

He balked. Oh, fuck, he knew what came next. - Er...yep.

\- Ah! Great! Do you wanna go grab something together?

Bingo.

But he couldn't just say no. He could see Holly's imposing face in his mind's eye, tutting at him about being neighborly.

\- That would be...awesome.

\- Awesome! Damon was all smiles. Dear Lord, that man was like a little kid. - I'll pay. You choose. Wherever. You did host dinner last night.

Well, at least there was that. Graham wasn't one to snub his nose at a free lunch.

\- Er...you like... he thought about where to go. - You know, there's actually a really cool diner just down the way. Like one of the American ones in the '50s.

\- We can walk?

\- Oh- yeah, I mean, it's literally just down there a bit.

Damon grinned, so wide Graham thought his face might break.

\- Awesome," he said again, and Graham looked behind them quickly, just to make sure Wendy wasn't standing at the window watching him or anything.

Damon noticed him doing that, and as they went back out on to the pavement he asked him, - So I figure there's someone at work you hate.

Graham stopped in place, squinting. - What are you talking about?

\- You keep looking back with that face on- he pretty accurately imitated the face that Graham had been making -and I just...iono, I figured there was someone there you didn't like. That's usually how...p-people, um, act, right?

Graham was still staring at him. - Well...as a matter of fact, I don't care much for my boss. She doesn't like me taking lunches out.

Damon grinned. - So I was right.

The light coming through the window was white, casting shadows across the bed, over their entwined forms.

He was smiling. "See, I told you I was right, Coxon, I can read you like a book..."

He opened his eyes, and he was back in real life again. Back? Dear God, he realized. It had just happened again. It couldn't have been more two seconds, that time, back in real life. Had Damon noticed? He was looking out into traffic; apparently he hadn't.

He took a deep breath and pushed everything into the back of his head, back, back where he couldn't see it.

Damon cleared his throat. He looked a little flustered, and his neck, the tips of his ears, were red. Had he...? Christ, don't even think about it.

\- What's the deal with this boss you hate?

\- I never said I hated her, Graham kind of laughed. - I mean...I do, though, he grinned. - I can say that now that we're out of ear shot, you know?

Damon laughed.

\- She's the worst! I'm serious! She's like the Antichrist incarnate.

\- For example...?

\- Well, just today, I came into work early today- Suzi drove my girl and yours to school today, actually, if you could thank her again for me later- and she came in, and started berating me for that-

\- Berating you for coming in early?

\- Yes! Isn't that insane?! he exclaimed. - Yeah, anyways, so she starts going off on me for that, and then she comes over to my computer, breathing down my neck, and sees that I have two- two!- pages pulled up that aren't work-related and she flips her shit again.

Damon thought for a moment. - Well, they weren't, uh, of a...pornographic nature, were they?

Graham stared at him, then burst out in laughter. - Christ, no!

Damon grinned. - In that case I don't see what the big deal is.

\- It was gore.

\- Really?

\- No! he snickered. - Uh, no. It was, like, two Wikipedia pages.

\- For what? Gore?

He shook his head. - No.

\- What, do I have to guess now?

\- Lucid dreaming and Slaughterhouse-Five.

Damon furrowed his eyebrows, mouth slightly open, and Graham nearly broke into another round of guffaws.

\- I...can't, I can't say that's not weird.

\- It's not.

\- Okay.

\- It's really not.

\- I said okay!

\- S- oh, we're here.

Graham pointed up at the diner, stepping forward and opening the door. A bell dinged. Damon followed behind him closely.

Seeing the Please seat yourself sign, he led Damon back into the restaurant, to a small booth in the back he always ate at whenever he had the chance to come here. Upon seeing it, he realized it was a bit cramped for two people, and was about to make a move for a larger one when Damon went ahead and sat down. His stomach swooped, but he followed suit regardless. Almost as soon as he sat down his knees grazed against Damon's.

\- Tight fit, Damon noted, picking up a menu. Bloody hell, why did he have to say it like that?

Graham picked up one of the laminated menus himself and flipped back and forth between the two sides. He would probably just get a hamburger or something. They rarely had hamburgers, as a family. Holly ate meat but found hamburgers to be "pedestrian." He hated her when she said stupid shit like that, honestly.

After deciding on his meal he spent the rest of the time Damon spent looking at his menu twiddling his thumbs and actively trying not to let any of their body parts touch, like a very uncomfortable adult version of Operation. He stared out the window. Cars passed by. Once again, he felt a twinge of comfort, and familiarity, again, sitting in this small booth with Damon, and it wasn't like before when he'd had an honest to God flashback, but it was definitely something he remembered doing, and it didn't really make him anything but sad. Like he'd missed out on something.

He needed to stop thinking about this.

\- Have you decided what you want? Damon was looking up at him again.

Had he? Was it even Holly anymore?

\- Yeah, I'm having a hamburger.

He scrunched up his nose.

\- What?

\- Er, nothin,' he laughed, looking down again. - I'm a pescatarian.

\- A what?

He laughed, sort of miserably, burying his face in his napkin. - I don't eat meat but I eat fish.

It was Graham's turn to furrow his eyebrows. - Well that doesn't make any sense.

\- Sure it does!

\- Why wouldn't you just be a vegetarian? Why eat the fish?

\- 'Cos I like fish!

\- But not meat?

\- I like meat, I just don't eat it.

He squinted. - Why?

\- It's good for the environment, it's good for me, and they're sentient beings-

\- Hold up, hold up, he said. - You refuse to eat meat because it was once alive, and sentient, but you eat fish, which were once alive, and sentient.

Damon sighed, deeply. - Okay. You got me. I'm a fucking hypocrite.

\- No, it's cool, he smiled, looking down at his hands. - I won't tell.

\- I'm gettin' fish'n'chips, you know.

Graham groaned. - I may be a murderer but at least I'm upfront about it.

\- Who's talkin' 'bout murder?

A couple at the table across the way shot Damon a nasty look; this only caused the two of them to descend further into raspy laughter, incidentally. A waitress brushed past them on her way to their table.

\- Howdy, folks! she greeted them in a pretty impressive American accent.

\- Howdy, Graham said in his Johnny Cash impression, earning wide eyes from Damon.

\- Have ya dined with us before?

\- I haven't, but he has, Damon offered.

\- Ah, well, I'll tell ya about our specials today-

\- Actually, I think we're ready to order, Graham looked at Damon, who nodded.

\- Ya don't want to order yer drinks first? she cocked her blonde head. She looked ever so slightly like Holly, and instantly Graham felt a little bit more wary towards her, even if he had no real right to.

\- Can we order both?

She shrugged. - Sure, if ya'll know what you want.

Damon glanced at the menu once more, stuck his tongue out and licked his lips, slowly- holy fuck, Graham couldn't even look at him when he did that, what was wrong with him?!- then asked, - A Coke and fish'n'chips for me, please.

The waitress scratched it down on her pad, then turned to Graham.

\- Water and a hamburger, thank you.

She finished up their order and smiled brightly, - That should be right out to ya folks.

\- Thank you, Graham murmured again as she walked away, tucking their menus under her arm.

\- Was that a Johnny Cash impression? Damon asked him, eyes still wide.

\- Yeah.

\- That is impressive, he nodded emphatically. - Can you, like, do more?

\- Do more what?

\- Of your Johnny Cash impression!

Graham stroked his chin for a moment or so, thinking then, - My friends and I actually made this really dumb song in college called "Rednecks" that was just me doing that voice.

\- What do you mean 'made'? Like you were in a band?

He froze. He hadn't expected him to question that, honestly. Maybe he should've gotten used to Damon asking all the wrong questions, by now, but it still caught him off guard.

\- I wouldn't really call it a band, it was just... he trailed off.

\- No! No, that is so cool! Damon looked really excited. - You recorded and all?

\- Er...yeah, he hung his head. - One thing. Album. Sort of...

\- That is SO cool!

\- Not really. It was a long time ago.

\- That doesn't make it any less cool, he insisted. - D'ya have any copies of it?

\- You're not allowed to listen to it.

\- I was asking if ya had copies of it, still.

\- And I'm saying you are not allowed to listen to it.

\- What if I give you one of my audio books, hmm? Sound like a deal? he was grinning so stupidly, sticking his hand out. Like this was a business transaction.

\- Um...

\- Oh, come on, Damon rolled his eyes. - I saw your CD collection at your house yesterday. You have amazing taste. People with amazing taste make amazing music.

Graham scratched his head. - I'm pretty sure that's subjective.

\- Pleaassssseeeee?

\- Urgh. No, Damon.

\- Why not?

\- Because, he laughed, not smiling. - That is a closed chapter of my life.

\- And what better way to start a new chapter with your fun new neighbor than by sharing things from your past...? Eh?

\- Damon.

\- I'm going to make ya change your mind, he pointed his fork at him. - Serious.

\- I doubt it.

The waitress was back, then, with their drinks. - Yer food is right behind this, fellas.

They took their drinks, both smiling until she left. Damon looked back at Graham.

\- So is this a stalemate?

\- Yes, he glared.

\- You're a funny guy, you know that, Graham? he looked at him over his Coke glass. - And you were the one who brought up your band first. So.

Graham stared him down a few seconds before he muttered, - Seymour.

\- Excuse me?

\- The band was called Seymour, he took a sip of water. - And the song I was talking about was called Rednecks.

\- Seymour, he repeated.

\- Yeah, he narrowed his eyes. - What's it to you?

He grinned.

\- What?

\- Oh, iono, he shrugged. - If I had a band I would've named it something like...iono...

\- Whatever you're about to say, I hope you know that I wasn't the one who chose the name for the band, okay?

\- Christ, he shook his head. - I'll think of a good band name later, right? When I'm listening to the album in question, he grinned.

\- You do not give up, do you?

\- I don't. It's my specialty.

He spotted the waitress coming out of the kitchen, a plate in each hand.

\- Ah, here we go! Yum, he mumbled, mostly to himself.

\- Yum food or yum waitress? Damon asked him.

\- Ugh, he shot him a look. - Food, ya perv.

\- I'm just saying...

\- Well, some of us aren't pigs, okay?

Damon opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then shut it as the waitress came up to their table. - Here you boys are, she winked as she set the plates down. Damon laughed and bit his lip.

Graham waited til she was gone to groan into his hand. - Christ, Damon.

\- What?

\- Horndog.

\- Horndog? I have a girlfriend, thanks.

\- She's just trying to get a bigger tip, you know.

\- She's been a perfectly lovely hostess, he said, affronted. - And I find her American accent to be incredible commitment to role, and therefore deservin' of a bigger tip.

\- Okay, he took a bite of his hamburger. - Okay. Horndog.

\- Ah, shut it.

There was a prolonged silence as they dug in, until Damon audibly swallowed and spoke up again, - Don't act like you weren't eyeing her. I saw youuu!

He tilted his head. - You bet?

\- Yup.

\- You're disgusting.

\- I speak the truth!

\- Your truth.

\- It's perfectly healthy to have attractions outside of your relationship, you know, Damon began, going down a road Graham hadn't realized they had arrived at. His mind, obviously, retreated to the prior night, with Suzi's choice of the word 'commitment.' He would have to tell Holly about this later. - It's natural.

\- Yeah, but not when you have kids.

This made Damon pale a little bit, and Graham returned to his hamburger without looking up. Even so, he could feel Damon's eyes boring holes into the top of his head, so he nervously announced, - I have to go use the bathroom, I'll be right back.

\- Graham-

As he was stepping out of the booth, his foot caught against Damon's but his body kept moving, and soon he found himself on the tiled floor beneath Damon. His head smarted on the side. He cursed. Damon was still staring at him.

\- Just let me get up, okay? he said a bit louder and higher-pitched than he meant to, which only made him flush a deeper shade of red. He stumbled to his feet, tugged his shirt down, and with the last strains of dignity he felt he had left stomped rather petulantly to the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom, somewhat safe from the prying eyes of the people in the restaurant, and, more specifically, Damon, he stood over the sink and glared at his reflection in the mirror, as normal people do.

He had a habit of doing this, as a matter of fact. Freaking out and hiding in bathrooms.

But to be fair, had it not been warranted? Damon was practically endorsing and validating the act of cheating on your significant other like it was nothing. Did he not have more values than that?

Oh, God. He sounded like Holly.

This was exactly how she would've reacted. With all this holier-than-thou bullshit.

Sighing, he ran the cold water tap for a second or so and splashed his face with water, watching it drip down his still-red cheeks. He could barely believe himself, half the time. He was just out to lunch with his new neighbor, who was a pretty normal bloke who just happened to have different family values than him-

Don't even think the word 'values'! That is a Holly word!

Her face was in the mirror beside him, scowling.

"What? Scared of your wife, Graham?"

He dunked his head in the sink, breathing as deeply as he could. He was cracking up. This was insane. He was insane. Why any higher being would will him into existence was beyond him.

The door swung open. He looked up, wildly, fully expecting to see Damon there, but was met only by an older gentleman who seemed to have no interest in him whatsoever. He grinned sheepishly and pretended to finish washing up in the sink he'd just pulled his head out of. When he'd gone into one of the stalls Graham dashed out and back across the restaurant.

Damon was staring at him in what appeared to be a mix of irritation and disappointment.

\- Y'alright? he asked, dead pan.

\- Fine, he replied.

\- While you were- he coughed -in the bathroom, the waitress came.

\- Did you-

\- Yes, I payed.

\- Oh. Er, do you want me to-

\- No, I do not want you to pay me back.

\- Um...

Damon's plate was mostly still full, but he stood up anyways. - I have to get back to work.

Graham glanced at his watch. He actually still had a good 15 minutes of his lunch break left, but he lied and said, - I do, too, scratching the back of his head.

\- Okay, he blinked. - Well.

\- Good-

\- Goodbye, then.

\- Right.

Damon gave Graham a tight smile, and Graham miserably watched him leave with his hands clasped around himself.

In his head, he was going to blame his freak out on Holly and her gradual beating into him of the concept of 'family values', and that part really might've been her fault, but the overreaction to it had all been him. It wasn't Holly that his in bathrooms, after all. Too pedestrian.

He smacked himself upside the head.

Back in Colchester, Pepper Coxon was at her school lunch break. It was sort of warm outside. On these sort of warm days they were allowed to eat out on the grass if they wanted.

When she was 11, when she'd first started at Stanway, she'd always eaten lunch with the same group of girls, the girls who had families like hers. When she was 13, she'd realized those girls' families weren't like hers at all, and she'd stopped hanging out with them and started eating lunch alone. In the long run, it made things easier. She was like her dad. She didn't like people.

Unlike her dad, she wasn't going to absolutely make a fool of herself and her life. At the age of 15, she'd already decided that. She wasn't going to be like him or Holly. She wasn't going to be like Laura, either.

But anyways, right then she was eating her lunch with the new neighbor, Missy. She hadn't really invited her to sit with her. She had a spot, along the fence that blocked off the radiators or whatever they were, in the way back of the schoolyard, and it was her spot, and she hadn't invited Missy along. Pepper had just gone back there and she'd followed.

The thing was, though, that she really didn't mind Missy, which was kind of weird. She absolutely hated the guts of all her other classmates. They thought she was weird. She knew they couldn't even comprehend the type of pain she'd already been put through.

But Missy didn't really talk about that kind of stuff. Weirdness or popularity or pain. She just sort of remarked on whatever seemed to be happening, which made it easy and fun to be around her, but also a bit off-putting, given that she was also rather preoccupied with the concept of rebellion and acting older than 15. Pepper supposed it was a London thing.

\- Classes sucked, Missy announced as soon as they'd sat down.

\- What did you have?

\- Iono. Maths. Latin. The like. It all fucking sucked, she paused, rifling through her brown paper lunch bag. She pulled out a clementine and continued. - And I'm not saying that it's any better or worse than it was back in London. I'm just saying that in general, school fucking sucks, she took a deep breath. - But we're outta here next year, so who cares, right?

Pepper shrugged, then changed her mind and started nodding. - You know, I- I get that. You know? School does fucking suck. I don't care what my mother says.

Missy laughed. - See? There ya go. I knew there was a rebel in you somewhere.

\- Yeah, she sighed, looking down again. - I mean, I dunno. Sometimes I feel like this place has beat all the rebellion out of me.

Missy frowned. - Why would ya even say that?

\- What do you mean?

She sat up a bit straighter. - The Man- The Man can't beat rebellion out of us, Pepper! she was shouting really loudly then. - They can't do that! As long as we're still breathing, we fight.

Pepper squinted. - I don't think I'm following what you're saying.

\- What I'm saying is that we need to do something, she stuck her tongue in the space between her teeth and her bottom lip, nodding hard like she was headbanging to an invisible heavy metal rock band. - We need to do something to stick it to The Man.

\- The man? Pepper squeaked.

\- The Man! Missy shouted even louder.

\- How...how are we gonna do that?

\- We, Missy was grabbing her shoulders by then. - are gonna do something wild.

\- Like what?

She shrugged. - Iono. I'll think of it later, she relaxed a little, letting go of Pepper and sitting back down. She glanced around a second. There was still no one in sight.

\- Is it gonna be something illegal?

\- Of course, she scoffed.

At that, Pepper couldn't help but smile.

\- Cool.

\- Cool? Missy was laughing.

\- Cool.

It wasn't until he got home that Graham remembered that he wasn't going to have to see Damon tonight.

\- They're off at Suzi's parents, remember? Holly had reminded him when he'd gotten home.

\- Oh, he said, remembering. - Right.

\- But I did talk to Suzi today about making Sunday night dinners- with all of us, that is- a weekly thing.

\- Oh.

\- Like we'd talked about earlier.

\- Right.

\- That sounds good, right, Graham?

\- Huh? he had been engrossed in the stitching on the table runner, where it was piled up in front of him, and Holly had turned to stare at him with more annoyance in her eyes.

\- Graham, she said. - Are you even paying attention to me?

He snapped back to attention. - Yes, honey.

\- What was I just talking about?

\- You were asking me if I was paying attention to you, he said, like a smart ass, and then, noting her nostrils flaring up, shook his head and continued. - And before that you were talking about having regular Sunday night dinners with the Albarn-Winstanleys. Which I wholeheartedly believe to be a fantastic idea.

\- Good, she was still looking at him warily, but trusted him enough to turn around and go back to the kitchen.

\- Although... he chewed his lip, debating whether or not to tell her about the day's happenings.

\- What?

\- Er...crikey, I wasn't going to- well, okay, I had lunch with Damon today.

\- You what?

\- See, it turns out he works right across the street from me. So I was walking out, on my lunch break, and we ran into each other on the pavement, laughing and everything, so he invited me to lunch with him. And I hadn't really wanted to at first but I went anyways, he admitted. We went down to Frank's Diner. Remember, that pseudo-American place we went one time-

\- Yeah, I remember.

\- We went there, and we were having perfectly mundane conversation up until this point- he coughed, remembering the incident on the pavement involving the slip in time. Not like he was about to tell Holly that, though, ha, -and then he started hitting on the waitress. And so I told him he was being disgusting, of course-

\- Of course, Holly murmured in agreement, brows furrowed.

\- And then he started going off about how it was 'perfectly normal' to experience attraction outside of one's relationship. He said it was 'natural.'

Holly made a face akin to the face of someone sucking a lemon.

\- Oh my God! she whisper shouted, - That is unbelievable! she screwed her nose up. - Ugh, what did you do then?

He thought for a moment, of what he had actually done, which was run into the bathroom and have a mini-breakdown featuring Holly's own ghostly head in the mirror, but he decided to retell that part, as he had with most of the story up to this point.

\- I couldn't really do much of anything, could I? We just finished up the rest of lunch in mutual embarrassment and went our separate ways.

\- I suppose that is all you could do, she was still shaking her head in disbelief. - My Lord, that family just has no values, do they?

Graham cringed. He suddenly regretted having said anything. Holly was worse than him, overreacting, because at least then he had the decency to feel bad about it later. Holly lived her life, better or worse, mostly for worse, with no regrets. Graham wasn't like that. He got stomachaches when he was mean to people. And then, overwhelmingly so, he just felt guilty, for having painted Damon in the most unfavorable light he could've, and making himself out to be like some sort of sad Christian boy martyr attacked by evil Damon's lack of family values. Poor, defenseless Graham. And now Holly was going to actively hate them. He'd probably be banned from talking to Damon. Christ. She would do that. Ban him, a grown man, from talking to another grown man. Why had he even said anything?

\- You know, it's funny you should say all that, she was sitting across the table from him now. All this drama made her a bloodhound and him a bag of blood. - Suzi mentioned something offhandedly- I wasn't going to pry, of course- but she mentioned something about him- I don't know, I didn't really want to pry- him having a bit of a reputation before they were together, as a bit of a player...I don't know, apparently he slept around once or twice around the time they first started dating... she tossed her hands up. - I don't know.

\- Well...they weren't technically dating then, right?

\- They were, though.

\- Oh.

\- Yes. I know. It is disgusting. From what you're saying he sounds like one of those "open relationship" people.

He cupped his cheek in his palm, sort of half-nodding. - Of course, that is rather...say, do you know how long the two of them have been together?

\- Ah...Suzi said she was two years older than I am, which would put her at your age, right?

\- Right.

\- And she said she's been with Damon since she was about 26, so that's- she paused, doing the math in her head. - 17 years, right?

\- Right, he pushed his bottom lip out. - That's quite some time.

\- Quite some time not to be married, Holly laughed, like they were in on the joke together, and he immediately really regretted having said anything at all. As per usual.

\- Hmm.

He was a bit sleepy, as it went, and he hadn't even had dinner yet.

\- D'ya mind if I take a nap before dinner? he mumbled a bit incoherently, yawning into his hand.

She looked at him, worry in her eyes, which wasn't exactly commonplace. - Oh, not at all, dear, she frowned. - You don't look too well.

\- I... he yawned again. - I'm, really, I'm really just a bit sleepy.

She patted him on the shoulder. - Okay. Go upstairs. Go get some sleep.

He wasn't one to not follow orders- no, no, he had been the one to ask if he could sleep...Christ, he was delirious. This fatigue had practically hit him out of nowhere, and now it was everywhere. Holly shushed him upstairs.

He collapsed on to their bed, not even bothering to crawl beneath the sheets or turn the lights off. Within seconds, he could feel his breathing slow down, and his brain become quiet, and sleep descended quickly after that.

He was on the ledge. He hadn't even been thinking when he'd gone out there- well, he'd been thinking, he just couldn't piece together every thought that had led him here, or didn't want to remember.

A harsh breeze blew up from the street, the thick smell of oil and night making him sway even more dangerously than he already was. Was this how it was going to end? This?

Alone. Sort of sweaty. Not even so scared anymore as he was just so tired.

He was just so tired.

He could hear banging on the door. He flattened himself against the wall, feeling his fingertips sink into brick. Maybe if he kept still, he wouldn't come out and see him. Maybe if he held his breath, he would disappear.

It seemed to be a common misconception- to him, at least- that suicidal people were attention whores, and Graham thought that couldn't have been any farther from the truth. It was quite the opposite, really. All he wanted was for people to stop paying attention to him. He wanted to disappear into the night.

So maybe that was why he was out here. To get his invisibility. To get some sleep.

Back in the hotel room there was a slam, and a click, and it sounded as though he had broken thorough the door. Not broken- had he even locked it? God, he wouldn't have. The attention whore that he was, he probably wanted everyone to come and see him.

Look at the freak.

He was saying his name, but it wasn't like he was even speaking. It was just more noise. Noise, noise, me, white noise. Blah blah. Christ, he thought. Just shut up already. I'm here I'm here I'm here.

Another gust of wind blew, one that was strong enough to momentarily shift his foot, and the twinge of shock in his chest was both relieving and annoying. It was his reminder that he was still alive. Cluttered head or not, the human body's striving goal was, in fact, to keep itself alive. His brain hadn't fucking gotten the memo. He couldn't help but laugh at that. He was so broken, now, it was funny.

He wasn't an attention whore, but he really did want to see how he was going to react to this. What a way to put a hole in his bubble. And fine, too. If he wanted to believe everything in this pretend world the record company had made for them was okay, it was his own damn fault if he felt bad when this happened.

This.

Graham looked over the edge again. It grew fuzzier and nicer looking by the second. His head swam.

Fuck if you don't get back right in here right now I can't believe this I can't believe you would

He was just so tired.

Graham woke up just as he was about to walk into oblivion.

He blinked into his pillow, remembering, slowly, who and where he was, and realizing that he had been dreaming.

It didn't upset him like it should've, that dream.

It was like the others. The flashbacks. The slips in time. Dreams were, after all, supposed to be recycled memories.

He rolled over and glanced at the clock. Seven o' clock. Bloody hell, he thought. Holly's going to kill me. We eat at seven on weekdays. No exceptions.

He stumbled down the stairs, brushing his hair into place, or at least attempting to. On the second step he could see Holly's face, pinched as it was, and then it looked up to make eye contact with him, and sunk into an even worse expression.

\- Ah, she said flatly. - Just in time for dinner.

\- Sorry.

\- Have you been sleeping since you got home? Pepper twisted in her chair to ask him.

\- No, he shook his head. - I just went and had a little nap. I had a long day at work.

\- Well, have a seat, Holly gestured to the table. - Thank you for joining us.

\- Again. Sorry.

\- It's all right, Graham, she said slowly, clearly like it was not all right. She picked up her napkin and dabbed her lips. - Casserole. I apologize if it tastes a bit slap dash.

\- It's quite all right.

Holly asked Pepper how school went. Asked some stuff about Missy. Etc. Talked about her own day, with Suzi. Nothing Graham was really paying attention to. When Holly stood up with her dish in hands, saying - I'm excusing myself, you all as well, he looked up and looked at the clock, and realized nearly half an hour had gone by. It had just slid by. Unnoticed.

Pepper cleared her plate and left as well. He sat at the table alone a little while longer, stewing in his own raw emotions from the dat, then pushed his chair out. He walked to the other side of the house, to the basement door. He took the steps down two at a time and tugged on the chain for the lights. They flickered on unsurely, and he realized that really hadn't been down there in ages. Glancing around at the stacks of boxes, wrapping paper, Halloween decorations, he finally had to to trek to the very, very back of the dark room. It was there that he found the collection of his old college things. He didn't allow himself to look at anything besides what he was here to get, lest he start feeling sentimental for a different life again, just shifting the one box out from the others and letting it hit the basement floor in a dusty heap. The box was so old, it wasn't much more than five pieces of moldy cardboard patchworked together around this, his college tapes.

He only had to paw through it a second to find the Seymour CD, the one he'd burned from the original tape sometime in the early 2000s as a sort of preservation of those days, even though he hadn't even listened to it once since then. As it went.

He stuck it under his arm, put the box back in place, walked back to the front of the basement, shut the lights off, trudged back up the steps. He stuck the CD in his work bag. He'd give it to Damon tomorrow.

He'd decided, sometime after waking up from his dream, to make amends with Damon after the events of the afternoon. They were just unfortunate. He was sure Damon would understand. He was that kind of bloke.

Why wasn't his own wife like that? he thought kind of stupidly as he went back up to bed.

He was just so tired.


	3. Chapter 3

Work the next day was spent carefully watching the window. He didn't see Damon on the street, which he supposed should have been a relief, after yesterday, but he just felt kind of bored. Nothing really notable happened the whole day- Pepper went with Suzi and Missy in the car to school again, Wendy left him alone, he ate lunch at his desk. Holly was still avoiding him, physically and emotionally. It could have been any other day.

He had wrapped the Seymour CD up in a brown paper bag, and in the last few minutes of the day before he went home had decided to write Damon a letter on a sheet of notebook paper.

Damon-

Sorry for being a right twat at lunch the other day. I̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶ Truth be told, I can be a bit awkward in social situations. I hope you can forgive me.

-Graham

That ought to do it. He folded the paper up and slipped it inside the bag. He wasn't sure when he'd give it to Damon- he saw Suzi plenty, but he wasn't sure he just wanted to give it to her to give to Damon. A personal hand-delivered gift would have a better impact, he was sure.

The drive home was punctuated by random bursts of rain. Pretty accurate, all in all. He pulled into his driveway and shoved the brown paper package back into his messenger bag.

Pepper and Missy were out on the neighbor's stoop, eating Popsicles and crouched over their phones. He waved, weakly, to them, and to his great surprise, Pepper looked up, smiled, and waved back to him excitedly.

\- Hey, Dad! she yelled.

\- Hey, Mr. Coxon! Missy waved, too.

\- Evening, girls, he smiled.

\- My dad was looking for you earlier, by the way, Missy said.

\- Oh, he said. That was good. Was it? He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. - Have you seen him?

\- He and mum went out grocery shopping a little while ago, she licked her lips, the color of grape Popsicle. - He said he had something for you. I think he just left it on the kitchen table, she shrugged. - You can just go in and get it if you want.

He opened his mouth a little. - Er...

\- Really, it's fine. He told me to tell you that if I saw you before he did.

\- You're absolutely sure he said that.

Pepper looked at Missy with quizzical eyes, but she kept nodding.

\- Yeah. He did.

\- Uh...okay, then, Graham walked over to where they were sitting, and awkwardly shuffled around them to the door.

\- It's on the kitchen table! she called after him, a reminder, as he went in. He glanced behind him and stuck his thumb up.

It was warmer in their house than it was in his. Of course, he thought, slowly ambling between rooms, every window he passed was open. A soft breeze, the smell of wet earth drifted in, and moisture clung to the back of his neck. He tugged at his collar and said loudly, hesitantly - Hello? continuing into the kitchen, where there were still boxes, and, just as Missy said, no people. Sighing, he looked around and spotted something on the table.

A package, not unlike the one he had, rather squarish with a sticky note on it that read, "FOR GRAHAM- :^)"

He picked it up. Obviously it was for him, right? That was what Missy said.

Then he remembered the Seymour CD in his bag. A package for a package. He pulled it out and set it on the table, replacing it in his bag with Damon's, then noticed there was no way of telling what it was. He didn't want to put the note out on top. Thankfully, he found a stack of more sticky notes and a pen, and quickly scrawled, "for damon.." on it, gently smoothing it down on the crinkled paper.

Walking back out, Pepper and Missy were cracked up with laughter. He furrowed his eyebrows, but said nothing as he scooched around them again.

\- You get it? Missy asked, turning her head. There were tears in her eyes, she was laughing so hard. Pepper seemingly couldn't even lift her head out from between her knees. He furrowed his eyebrows deeper.

\- Er...yeah, I did.

Missy looked from him to Pepper and back again. - Well, she said, tipping an imaginary hat. - G'day to you!

\- Good day to you too... he said warily.

It was then he noticed that Holly's car wasn't in the driveway. He turned back around, frowning.

\- Pepper, where's your mother?

She shrugged. - I- I dunno. She wasn't here when I got home.

\- What do you mean?

\- Her car wasn't here when I got home.

\- Who picked you up from school?

\- Suzi.

He rose a hand to his forehead, then dropped it. - Of course, he said. - Wait, so you two have here, home alone? When did Damon and Suzi leave?

Missy rolled her eyes. - My parents left just like 10 minutes ago.

\- Dad, we're 15, Pepper said.

\- My point exactly.

They both looked at each other, so he shook his head. - You know what, never mind. Carry on, he made a move to leave, then stopped and jabbed his finger at them. - You are not to leave the premises!

\- Okay, warden, Pepper said, which earned a chuckle from Missy.

He sighed. - Okay, and went into his house.

The girls would be fine out there. Unless Holly came home to find them out there, alone. Christ...that was what was going to happen. That was what was going to happen.

He ran back outside. - Why don't you both come inside? he suggested nervously. - Come put the TV on. It's not good to be out in nature this long.

Missy shrugged, standing up amicably and sauntering across the lawn, but Pepper still seemed affronted.

\- I can't even tell if you're being sarcastic or not! she shouted.

\- Well, sorry.

He ushered them into the house. Pepper announced they were going up to her bedroom.

\- Great, he murmured, still glancing out the window in case Holly was going to make a surprise appearance. He then waited until he heard the teenaged stomps up the stairs and the slamming of her door before he collapsed in one of the kitchen table chairs.

He unwound himself from the straps of his bag and tossed it on the table. The brown package slid out from the force. He held it tentatively, appraising the object. He didn't think it was a bomb, judging from the crude smiley face Damon had drawn on, but you could never be too sure. Still, it certainly didn't feel heavy enough to be a bomb- it didn't really feel heavy enough to be anything. It felt like a lightweight, squat plastic box.

No longer feeling particularly diffident, he tore the paper away and was greeted by nothing he had expected.

It was, as he'd predicted a lightweight, squat plastic box, like a very thick CD. But it was odd, it featured a golden statue of the Buddha...? he supposed it was, on a black background, with red trim. HERMANN HESSE, he read first, then, directly beneath that in a loopy font, SIDDHARTHA.

\- That's a book, innit? he muttered to himself, turning it over and over.

He tried opening it up. It was a bit hard- you couldn't just pop it open like a regular CD case- you had to struggle with it a bit.

Inside were a set of old-fashioned tapes. Three of them, he counted. Nestled together like sardines in a tin can. He took one out, examining it. Part 1, Part 2 each side read. The others continued in the same fashion, all the way up to 5.

It was then that he realized he was holding a set of tapes for an audio book. Immediately after realizing that he slapped himself upside the head, for being such a right fucking idiot. Bloody hell, he thought, and flipped it back over.

Damon was a voice actor. Yesterday at lunch he had mentioned trading the Seymour CD for one of his audio books. Of course! The audio book must've been one narrated by him.

He then racked his brain trying to remember if he still owned his portable cassette player. It wouldn't be in the basement, it would be...

He pushed his chair out and went into the dining room. There sat a large desk, an antique Holly's parents had gifted her, and inside were a bevvy of items she had tossed in there over the years, mostly all items that belonged to him and she didn't want to be visible. A staggering number of his personal belongings were shoved in places like this, the backs of drawers. Sometimes he thought that if she could, Holly would shove him in the back of a drawer. But that was, of course, besides the point. He found his portable cassette player under an old copy of NME, something something with Oasis on the cover, and he paused for a moment, wondering why he even had that magazine. It had to be 20+ years old, and he'd always hated the NME and Oasis.

Shaking his head, he shut the door again and walked slowly back to the table. Siddhartha. Had he read that at school? He had a vague recollection that he might've been forced to read it in English class. Obviously it hadn't even been good enough to make any sort of an impression on him, so he figured he would just listen to the first few minutes of it for Damon's sake.

He popped open the compartment and slid the '1' tape in, grabbing a pair of earbuds off the table that he was pretty sure were Pepper's, but he figured he would be done with them by the time she came down. He hit the 'play' button, and the tape whirred, and then it began.

First came a strange, tinkling music he assumed to be...Buddhist music. He wasn't really quite sure what Siddhartha was about. Then the credits came, droned in a voice that was most certainly not Damon's. He leaned back in his chair, already kind of bored.

And then there was a clear, smooth voice. Siddhartha, it said, by Hermann Hesse.

He sat up a little bit. That was definitely Damon speaking now, but he sounded..different. The voice he was reading in barely sounded like his speaking voice at all, which was riddled with stuttering potholes, confusing pronunciation, weird slang. The voice he was reading in sounded educated.

On a hunch he picked the box up again. Just as he'd expected, the publication date was for the year 1996. Damon didn't just sound educated; he sounded young. He could tell, even through the slight static, of the cassette player, how young he was. And it was so fucking familiar, and he began to feel himself being transported again, shushed away to another place before he even realized what was happening.

"No, no, I'm doin' like...like a spoken word thing for this song," he was laughing. They were in the studio, just the two of them. "Seriously, it sounds cool. Jus'...jus' play your guitar bit underneath."

"I don't think this is gon' to work out like you think it is."

"Trust me! C'mon, jus', when haf you ever been led astray by one of my ideas?"

Graham glared at him, earning another cackle.

"C'mon!"

"Ah- fine," he slung his guitar over his shoulder. "Whatever."

"Actually, can you jus' play Alex's part? Like, w-with, a lotta distortion."

"You know, it's real easy for you to just say 'do this', 'do that', when you don't actually play the guitar yourself."

"Wanker. I play the guitar."

"No, you don't," he smirked.

Sighing, "Can you play the bass line or not?"

"Yes! Of course I can play it, you bloody numpkin..."

He started playing, and then the other man gestured, like, "Turn it up!" then he took a deep breath, and spoke into the microphone with his eyes closed:

"I remember thinking murder in the car  
Watching dogs somersault  
Through sprinklers on tiny lawns  
I remember the graffiti, we are your children  
Coming in with spray cans of paint  
I remember the sunset and the the plains of cement  
And the way the nights seemed to turn the color of orangeade  
In this town cellular phones are hot with thieves  
In this town we all go to terminal pubs  
It helps us sweat out those angry bits of life  
From this town the English Army grind  
Their teeth to glass  
You'll get kicked tonight  
Smell of puke and piss  
Smell of puke and piss on your stilettos..."

Then he drew his fist up and said, 'Cut! Cut!", motioning for Graham to stop.

"What is it? That was good."

"I haven't got anymore lyrics," he explained, twiddling with his hair. They were both flustered. It was a hot summer day, and the studio was small and stuffy. There was a perpetual trepidation hanging in the air.

"What if I just end it with the kinda stuff I did on Dancehall?"

He was thinking. "What if...we did just end it wif Dancehall? 'at'd be cool, right?"

"Maybe you should just write more lyrics."

He laughed, hanging his head again. Graham's heart was melting.

"Yeh, I will, I will," he wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "Once we get Dave an' Alex in, I'll have it."

Graham was thinking, too. "I love your speaking voice," he mumbled, kind of abashedly, with his hands over his face.

He grinned. He was so cocky.

"Really," he licked his lips. "I thought you said doin' spoken word wouldn't work out the way I thought it would."

"You're an arse."

"Sure, sure."

They were both smiling, and then-

Graham snapped out of it, alerted by the crunch of gravel in the driveway. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, pausing the tape player. Through the window was Holly's car. Christ. He closed the audio book case and shoved it and the portable cassette player into his bag. He wasn't even going to begin to try and explain it to her.

Pepper and Missy were still upstairs. A quick glance at the oven clock reassured him that he really hadn't been out that long; it had just felt that way. It was possibly because it was the happiest slip yet. The music he had been playing sounded wonderful, even though he could barely remember what song it was. It had to be something he knew, of course. Unless his unconscious brain had written it.

He was beginning to notice a theme with all of these memory-not-memories: the man with him in them. Even if the moment he was out of them he couldn't place his voice or his face, he knew it all had to be the same person. He had this aura about him that was inimitable.

The door opened. He folded his hands over his bag with the tapes in it defensively as Holly walked in.

\- Hey, honey, he said.

She looked up, at some point beyond his head, and smiled absently. - Hello, Graham.

He waited a second as she set her things down before, "- So Pepper said you weren't here when she got home from school.

\- Ah...no, she shook her head. - I wouldn't have been.

\- Oh, he sunk his fingers into his hair. - Er...so, where were you- he glanced her up and down, at her exercise clothes -at the gym?

\- New Pilates class, she mumbled, going to the kitchen and pulling a glass down out of the cupboard.

\- Sounds fun.

She filled the glass up with water, shrugging. - Yes, I suppose so.

\- Er...dinner, tonight?

\- Quinoa stir fry.

\- Right, he frowned. - Uh...new health kick?

She shrugged again. - Why not?

\- Okay," he popped his lips. - Cool.

\- Did you have a good day?

He glanced up. - Uh- yeah, yeah. Pretty uneventful.

\- Mm. That's good.

\- I guess, he chewed his lip. - Still working on the Pembrooke account.

\- Is that the big one?

Graham had had many big accounts, but he nodded anyways. - Yes.

\- Well, that's good, she took a sip of water. - You get bonuses on those, right?

\- Er... he scratched the back of his neck. - Sometimes.

She sighed, a tiny sigh, and drank a few more sips. Then, - I'm going to start dinner now.

\- Okay.

She looked at him, and he stood up.

\- I'll- uh, I'm goin' out on the patio, to, er-

\- Don't drop your 'g's, dear, she said, setting her water glass down.

\- Sorry.

She sort of grimaced. - Well, I'll let you know when dinner is ready.

\- Okay, he said, swinging his bag back over his shoulder. - Oh, and Missy's here. They're up in Pepper's bedroom.

\- All right.

\- Well... he waved a little, and then turned sharply on his heels and made his way through the house to then back patio. He yanked the sliding glass door open, immediately relaxing at the breath of mild air.

He really did love their yard. Holly did everything maintaining it, of course, but she didn't mind him reaping the benefits. Every carefully potted plant and arranged flower bed, every clipped bush and vegetable garden was done with love, she said. Personally, Graham had always found there to be a slightly creepy vibe to the whole place, what with the wrought-iron fencing and rain-damaged statues of angel babies, but he supposed that was Holly's idea of love. And he wasn't completely complaining- the Gothic sensibilities in him appreciated it. So along with the seating area out on the front porch, he liked the back patio for work as well.

Or, in this case, listening to more of the tapes. He had mostly finished up Part 1 earlier, and now elected to just flip it over for Part 2. Each part seemed to be an hour long, which ideally meant he could listen to one tape before dinner at seven. He kicked his feet up on the chair, put the earbuds in, and settled into his surroundings.

Truth be told, he hadn't much been paying attention to plot of the book, more so, Damon's voice- how he clipped his vowels, the way his mouth wrapped around a word- which had begun to sort of embarrass him, finding solace in his neighbor like this. But it wasn't really him, himself. They weren't even his words. He just sounded pleasant. He was a voice actor, after all. Sounding pleasant and making people feel nice and warm and fuzzy inside was his job. Right? Graham couldn't be half-arsed to care anymore. No one was judging him right then besides himself.

Right after thinking that, he heard a crash coming from the other side of the fence, and he yelped, nearly falling out of his chair.

\- Crikey, what the-

He looked up, and there, hanging over the top of the fence dividing their backyards, grinning wildly, was no other man than Damon Albarn.

Graham couldn't have ripped his earbuds out any sooner as Damon yelled, - Hey, are you listening to the copy of Siddhartha that I gave you?

He considered, very seriously, for a moment, lying, but then what would he say he had been listening to? Then obviously Damon would know that he had been lying, and that begged the question of why would you even lie about listening to it, hmm?

Christ.

\- Uh... he set the cassette player down on the patio table, padding through the grass over to the fence. It was a tall fence; he had to crane his neck back all the way to look him in the eyes. - Are you standing on a chair to talk to me?

\- Yeh, Damon laughed. - Why'n't you pull one up, too?

\- Em, he glanced behind him. - I don't think Holly would approve of me standing on her Tommy Hilfiger chairs.

\- Oh- okay. Gimme a moment, he held up his index finger. Graham opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again as Damon disappeared beneath the fence, and there were a few moments of bangs and clatters and then Damon shouted, - Heads up!

\- What?

He stumbled backwards just in time for a lawn chair to come flying over the fence.

\- DAMON! he screeched. - What the hell?! You could've taken my bloody head off!

\- I didn't, though. I said "heads up."

\- Damon.

He appeared at the top of the fence again, grinning. - Just set it up right there! You can have it, if you want it. We've got loads of chair over here.

\- I'm not taking your chair.

\- Come on, try it out! I wanna talk about the CD you gave me. And that letter.

\- Oh... he clasped his elbow uncomfortably. - So, you found that, didn't you?

\- You did give it to me, he reminded him. - It said "for damon.." on it. I don't know if there's another Damon in my house you intended it for, but-

\- No, no, I- I did mean to give it to you, Graham squirmed. - It's just kind of still embarrassing.

\- Well, I forgive you.

\- Oh...good, he said weakly.

\- I can't hear you, Graham.

\- What?

\- Oh my god, get up here! he gestured insistently to the chair. - I didn't throw that over the 9-foot-high fence for you to not use it.

Sighing, Graham dragged the chair from where it had clattered to a stop near the middle of his yard to the fence, setting it up and begrudgingly climbing to stand on top of it.

\- If I fall or anything, it's your fault.

\- It's a chair, Graham.

When Damon said his name, it sounded more like 'Grem' than 'Graham', which was sort of endearing. Grem, he thought. He kind of liked it.

\- Alright, so, Damon continued. - You were listening to Siddhartha, yeh?

\- Er, he ducked his head. - Yep.

\- That was an old one.

\- 1996, he murmured, before he realized how creepy it must've seemed for him to know the year it was published right off the top of his head.

Damon, at least, didn't notice. - I w-wasn't sure which one you'd like, see, uh, he paused for thought. - I've got this big box, now, of all the audio books I've narrated, and I was going back through them with you, er, in mind, he laughed kind of embarrassedly, which made Graham swoon against every other sane part of himself. - I mean- iono what kinda stuff you like to read, but I- I thought you might find Siddhartha interesting enough, he shrugged. - It's one of my favorites, at least.

\- Well, uh...

As previously mentioned, Graham hadn't actually really been paying actual attention to what the plot of the story was, or really anything about it except that it was about some guy probably named Siddhartha who left home in search of...spirituality? Something along those lines.

\- Yeah. I like it.

\- Oh, good!

\- I mean, I'm only a little bit into Part 2, but it's very, he searched for the right word. - Immersive, he said. Oh, Christ, that wasn't it! Immersive? That made it sound like he was wanking to it!

\- Hermann Hesse has a very simple stylistic flow that I, em, that I really admire, Damon nodded. - And you're right, it is very immersive.

\- Mm hmm, Graham nodded. He hated books. He hated books so much. They were awfully boring. He couldn't talk out of his arse about it much longer. - So, uh...you listened to the Seymour CD?

\- Oh my God, yes! his eyes sparkled. - Wow!

\- That's your reaction?

\- Christ, it's... he was grinning impossibly wide. - How old were you all?

\- Er... 20... he scratched his nose. - I think.

\- I mean- wow, he said again.

\- Is this a positive reaction you're having?

\- Yes! Very positive!

\- I sense a "but" coming on.

\- But...

\- Aha. Bingo.

\- It's definitely a mixed bag. The vocals- yours, I'm assuming?

\- Yeah. Guitar too.

\- Wow! So, so good. Like literally perfect on, uh, "Sing", and "Uncle Love", "Miss America"- oh my God, that Mission of Burma cover, that rivals the original!- and I loved that song Rednecks you were telling me about, haha, but then, er, t-t-there are some, that, uh... he made a face. - You know, "Fried", "Shimmer", "Dizzy", they were just- iono, t-they just seemed less formed? Raucous. A bit...hectic.

\- That's giving us a looottttt of slack, Damon, he laughed.

\- Well...you were kids, his face was shining in the late-late-afternoon light. - And I never said it wasn't good. As a matter of fact, I said it was "wow." And you are a really good singer, Graham.

\- Not really. I made Alex sing back-up with me half the time. I'd make him go up to the front of the stage when we performed...

\- Alex?

He sighed. - Bassist. My college roommate. Biggest twat ever, course.

\- Does it make you feel any better if I say I didn't care much for the bass on the album?

Grinning, - Not much, but thanks.

\- I can't believe you lot didn't get picked up by a label or anything. I mean, especially if you think about what the whole popscene was like at the time.

Graham's stomach lurched when he said popscene. Was that even a word? Where had he had heard it before? Had he heard it before, or was this another memory-not-memory coming to haunt him?

\- What w-with Oasis and Pulp and Elastica... he continued. - I- I always thought, uh, British music should've been more popular during the mid-90s, em, at least in Britain, you know? Not all that grunge shite, he shook his head. - I think that if labels had been signing bands like yours there might have been like, er, like a Renaissance of British music!

Graham snorted. - Yeah, 'cos a few blokes with mod haircuts and synth keyboards were enough to topple the Nirvana franchise.

\- I'm telling you! he insisted. - British music could have been it! It was all so good. Didn't you ever listen to those bands? Elastica? God, I fancied the lead singer so much.

Seeing whatever face Graham was making then (as he was assuredly making a real face right then), he smirked and rolled his eyes.

\- Is this gonna turn into something like from yesterday? I did apologize-

\- No! No, just...he could feel his cheeks burning up, dipping his head.

\- I understand, Graham, I certainly-

\- It's nothing, right? he said, changing the subject. - I mean, think about the one British rock band that got popular worldwide around that time period. Coldplay? What a Renaissance.

He started cackling, but saw Damon still staring at him rather seriously.

\- What?

\- I like Coldplay.

\- Wha- oh my God, no you don't.

\- What's wrong with Coldplay?

Graham groaned. - I don't even want to get into this.

\- What's wrong with Coldplay? he seemed genuinely perplexed, so Graham waved his hand.

\- Er, nothing. They're great.

\- No, he leaned further over the fence. - You think they're...rubbish. Rubbish! Don't you?

He shook his head. - I'm abstaining from commenting.

\- The world needed sensitive songs like that back then! I mean, I'm not saying that them as an entity really did it for me. They needed to groom themselves quite severely. I don't like the whole colorful thing either. But haven't you listened to "A Rush of Blood to the Head"? "Viva la Vida"? Hell, even the new one is-

\- Christ, he gasped. - No! Don't even say that the new one is good. Don't even think it!

\- Aw, come on-

\- No.

\- Gra-

\- It's awful.

Damon's shoulders slumped. - I can't believe it...

\- Really?

\- Really! I thought you had good taste.

\- Well, that's exactly it, he said. - I do have good taste.

\- Sure, sure, Damon grinned cockily, and Graham's heart stopped. He had heard that before he had heard that before he had heard that before...it was on the tip of his tongue, literally right there, on the horizon...

Before he could grasp it, all thoughts were dashed by the sound of the sliding glass doors opening and Holly's affronted yell.

\- Are you standing on my lawn chair? she yelled across the way. - What are you doing?

\- Uh-

\- Nevermind, nevermind. I just came out here to tell you dinner is ready.

\- Okay, he nodded.

\- Are you...coming? she raised her eyebrows.

\- Uh, in a second, yeah.

She paused for a moment, then dropped her hands and turned back around. - All right.

They waited until the glass doors opened and closed before looking at back at each other. Graham couldn't really do anything but shrug. - Well, er...yeah, he swallowed exaggeratedly. - I- I figure I should be getting inside now, he jumped out of the chair, on to grass, cold against his knees.

\- Graham? Damon asked.

He looked up at him. There was something horribly depressing woven into the lines of his face. When had that gotten there?

\- Yeah?

He bit his lip, then, - Just...remember, okay?

\- Remember what? he asked, beginning to feel sort of sick again. He was afraid of the answer he might get.

Fortunately or unfortunately, no answer came. Damon dropped out of sight, and Graham could hear the trampling of grass on the other side of his fence. He closed his eyes, when suddenly his voice broke through again, - Oh, er, and I'm coming over for my chair tomorrow, right?

\- Yeah, he called back, and that was that.

Damon's ominous plea was somewhat dampened by the last bit, but Graham was still shivering. Remember what? he wanted to scream.

It was bad enough, with his mind playing tricks on him. He didn't need everyone else doing it too.

 

Pepper asked him, later, if he'd seen her earbuds anywhere. He lied and told her no.

They were still in his bag, with the tapes, waiting for him.

Waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

\- So here's the plan, Missy had a whiteboard in her room. She had scribbled a crude recreation of Colchester proper on to it from Google Maps. - See every place that has a red circle on it?

Pepper was sat on the edge of her futon- futon! Holly would never let her have a futon instead of a bed!- and staring up at Missy's map. Missy had dragged her here after school, announcing that she had finally decided what their big "stick-it-to-the-man" project was going to be. This was it, apparently. Insane genius scribbling.

\- Yeah, I see.

\- Every one of those places is somewhere important in Colchester, she did air quotations around "important." - Somewhere the man has his grubby little fingers shoved in.

\- Uh huh.

\- Tonight, she raised her marker above her head like she was brandishing a sword, and Pepper couldn't help but think of a painting she had seen once of that French warrior lady going into battle. Joan of Arc. That was what Missy looked like. Like a warrior. - Tonight we attack!

\- Er... Pepper cleared her throat. - Attack with what?

She looked back down. - Spray cans, obvi.

\- Oh, she said, then nodded. - Graffiti, right?

\- Not just any graffiti, Peps, she grinned. - Imagine, on banks, schools, churches- just a big "FUCK" spray painted there, she splayed her hands out. - Just...imagine that.

\- That's, uh... she swallowed. - That's definitely illegal.

\- Well, duh, she shrugged her shoulders. - Wouldn't really be sticking it to the man if it weren't.

\- Can't we get arrested for something like this?

Missy narrowed her eyes. - I thought we were on the same page.

\- No- we are, we are! she nodded. - Just, er, making sure there's a plan.

\- I just told you, I have a plan, she scoffed. - You have to stop worrying so much, Christ! she went back in her closet, then pulled out two black ski masks. She tossed one at Pepper and giggled. - Foolproof.

Pepper, as usual, couldn't keep a straight face around Missy for very long and broke into giggles of her own, holding the stupid mask. - This is one of the worst ideas you've ever had.

\- Ever? You've known me for a week.

\- Okay, it's one of the worst ideas you've had yet.

\- That's better.

\- So, do we...do we just run around town tonight with spray cans? How do we explain that to our parents?

\- Well, you tell Holly that you're spending the night, right?

\- Right.

\- 'Cos that's the most she'll believe.

\- Right. Of course.

\- And then... she folded her lips. - I dunno, we just tell my parents we're going out. Neither of them'll care.

Pepper groaned, flopping back on to the futon. - God, your parents are so cool...

Missy laughed. - No they're not! You've met them, yeah? They're the lamest people on the face of the planet.

\- You're spoiled, Pepper sat up, and Missy chucked a pillow at her. - I'm serious!

\- Pepper, you just think that 'cos your mum is literally the Antichrist.

\- She's not my mum, she muttered.

\- You know what I mean, Missy rolled her eyes, standing back up again. - She's awful.

\- I know.

\- I mean, I would literally kill myself if she were my mum.

\- I know!

\- But that doesn't make my parents any cooler, she paused. - Okay, okay, back to tonight. It'll be dark outside, and- ooh, you gotta wear all black, remember that!- and we'll have these masks on, and this- she reached under the futon, sliding a heavy black duffel bag out. She unzipped it, revealing cans and cans of spray paint.

\- Holy hell! How much did that all cost you?

\- Nothing, she said. - I've been collecting them forever. I mean, they're mostly all just half-full, what I used to do is go 'round to all the houses in my neighborhood with fresh paint jobs, which was a lot, and 'cos no one had garages, they would just have all these partially used spray cans lying around that they wouldn't trash 'cos of the environment or whatever. And I would ask for them, pretend it was like for an art project or some shit, and I put them in this bag, she shook her head. - I've been saving them all this time for something wonderful, and I've finally found it.

\- That's actually crazy.

She pushed the bag back beneath her futon. - Only a little bit. And look! We're using them now.

\- Right, she said, and glanced around. - When should we go back over to my house to ask if I can spend the night?

\- Oh, Missy squinted. - Whenever. Does it matter? We're fifteen, not five.

\- Right, she said, again. Missy was back at her whiteboard, writing more stuff down.

\- Missy?

\- Yeah? she said, not even turning around.

\- What are we gonna do if we get caught?

\- I told you," she looked over her shoulder, and there was something dangerous in her eyes. - We're not gonna get caught.

Graham found one excuse or another when he got home from work to go upstairs and listen to the latest part of Siddhartha he was at, which was Part 4. Finding an excuse had been relatively easy, as he was on the outs with Holly again, and when they were fighting she had a tendency just to kind of ignore him and let him do his thing. Wait. "On the outs" again? He shook his head. When was he not "on the outs" with her? They had some sort of preemptive divorce fight every other day.

He had told her this time that he was going up for a long, hot bath, as he'd said he needed one after a hard day at work. Still on that one project? she'd asked. Yes, he'd said. And do you know if you'll get a bonus because of it...

He took a deep breath, pushing his shoulder against the door and twisting the lock.

Peace. Tranquility. No Holly for a sweet, sweet hour. He wasn't going to even think about her. This was his time.

He propped his bag up on the sink, pulling the cassette player, tapes, and earbuds out and setting them down carefully on the lid of the toilet.

He hadn't actually planned on taking a bath, but now that he was here, the sound of one was beginning to seem tantalizing. Why not draw one? As long as he was careful with the tapes, he figured a nice bubble bath would be a loads better listening experience than sitting on the toilet and staring at the wall for an hour.

He put the plug in, crouching over the faucets, and then cranked both all the way to full blast. It was a pretty good bath that they had. Expensive. Part of the recent remodeling. He grabbed the container of hot pink bath bubble liquid off the wall shelf, turning it over and squeezing a bit out. He was always afraid as a kid that he'd pour too much in and that'd he'd die via bubble asphyxiation. It's funny, thinking back and remembering what scared you as a kid. In the minutes as the tub filled, he began undoing his clothes; the laces of his shoes, the buckle of his belt, the fly of his pants, the buttons of his shirt. He tossed them into a corner and turned back around, shivering. The bath was just about full then. He quickly reached down and turned the faucets off, then twisted to grab the tape stuff and set it on the edge of the outside of the bath. The water, he tested hesitantly, was the perfect temperature after he'd turned both faucets on, and he got in. He was careful not to splash on to the ground, lest he water log not only his ancient cassette player, but Pepper's earbuds, and Damon's tapes.

The second he relaxed into the water, he felt every muscle in his body unwind. It was one of the most immediate and gratifying feelings in the world, hot baths, after-

He stared down at the pink water. How long had it been, since he'd...?

Pushing those thoughts aside, he wiped his hands on the towel above his head, then pulled it down and laid it over the lip of the tub. He reached over that for his things, and set them up very, very carefully on the towel. Earbud jack went in the little hole, and his ears, and the tape in the compartment, and he hit play.

He had begun to pick up little bits of the story. Siddhartha had left his home in search of a greater sense of purpose, traveling without a home or possessions to call his own. It had been vaguely implied that this was the correct thing for him to do, spiritually, but Graham wasn't sure. Either way, he had come to a city and seen, apparently, a really hot woman, who told him she would only have sex with him if he were rich. Graham had hated her from that moment on, of course. He was annoyingly reminded of Holly.

So then the woman directed him to some businessman guy, whom he ended getting rich with. So then she'd had sex with him. A lot of it. Anyways, years later, stupid Siddhartha found himself living an empty existence, unsatisfied, so he'd gone down to the river to kill himself. But then he thinks of the word "Om", or the river thinks it for him, something like that, and it's enough to save him, apparently. He was at the part now where he was living at the river with a boat dude, happier than he'd ever been in the city, as it went.

Om, Graham thought. Om, Om.

This wasn't to say that he'd ever seriously considered suicide. If had just been him and Holly? Well, maybe. Not really. And there was Pepper. He could never do anything like that to her. She was put through enough shit. Besides, it was just irresponsible, killing yourself. Messy and irresponsible.

It goes without saying that his mind then wandered to the dream he'd had a few afternoons ago. The dream where he was about to kill himself.

It was chilling, how normal that all had felt.

He shook his head, focusing again just on Damon's voice. Tune in, tune out.

These tapes had begun to be one of the only things he looked forward to. Besides actually seeing Damon, of course, although they'd barely talked since the chair incident. The tapes were, truly, his solace from the day-to-day grind of living with Holly Coxon. Damon's calming presence was perfectly encapsulated, preserved, inside of them. It was like a shot of Novocain to his heart.

Was it normal to be in love with your neighbor's voice?

But then he started thinking about Damon- the stupid little smile he got on his face when he was lost in thought, the way he licked his lips, his eyes, how earnestly he talked about everything- and it dawned on him, horrifyingly, that it might not have just been his voice he was in love with.

This was insane. He'd known him for a week. You couldn't be in love with someone you'd known for a week.

On the other hand, he'd known Holly for 20-odd years and he'd never loved her.

Christ.

Why was he thinking about this?

Damon. He was terrifyingly, sickeningly in love with him, and he'd only known him for a week.

He paused the tape, pushed it away, shuddering. No, no, no. He didn't even like men. He didn't-

Well now, he thought. That wasn't entirely true, was it? Alex would've had a different take on the matter. Alex, with his long legs and fingers and smirk, would definitely have a different take on the matter. God, he was getting horny just thinking about him again. And Damon. He wanted him here, right then, he wanted him inside him. Without really thinking much at all anymore he submerged his hand underwater, groping for his member, which was painfully erect. Fuck. One or two strokes would finish him off. Holly wouldn't hear a thing, the bathroom was on the other side of the house from the kitchen.

Biting his lip, he continued imagining Damon, imagining him there with him, on top of him, holding his face and his hip, with that solemn voice of his growing more ragged and out of control as Graham touched him, anywhere he wanted him to touch him, everywhere, he was his. He bucked his hips, holding a low groan.

He came quickly, and then came the guilt. He gasped, letting his head hit the back of the bath.

Fucking. Christ.

He was insane. He held his breath, then-

There was at once a loud banging on the door. He shot straight up, yelling - Jesus fucking Christ!

\- Dad!

Pepper. It was Pepper. Oh, thank God, he'd locked the door.

\- I'm in the bath, he said shakily, clutching his chest.

\- Yeah, mum said you were.

Then why the hell did you even come up here? he thought angrily.

\- What is it, Pepper?

\- Can I stay the night at Missy's? Mum said it was alright with her if it's alright with you.

Missy's. Damon's. He felt his breath catch his throat again, and he had to physically swallow it down.

\- Fine, fine, he muttered.

\- What?

\- I said it's fine! he shouted.

There were a few seconds of silence, and he'd figured she was gone, when another teenaged girl voice piped up, - Hi, Mr. Coxon!

\- Hello, Missy, he said through gritted teeth.

\- Bye, now! Pepper spoke.

\- Bye, he huffed, and sunk deeper into the bath. He waited for their footsteps down the stairs before he felt he could come up again. He was a shitty, shitty excuse for a human being, but knowing that did not make him anymore okay with himself. He wanted to go bash his head against the wall.

How the fuck was he supposed to even look Damon in the eyes now? Hey, thanks for having my daughter over at your house for a sleepover, I just masturbated to you in the bath. Wow, have you gotten new curtains? I know we've only known each other for a week but I think I'm in love with you. Etc. The rest of his life was going to be hell. Maybe he could convince Holly to relocate the family to Chelmsford. No, no, they'd just renovated the whole house, idiot, she'd sooner cut her foot off...but what else was there to do? Pretend that this had never happened? Pretend he didn't feel this way?

Fuck me, he thought. Fuck everything.

Just as Missy had said, her parents didn't seem to have any problems with them just...going into town. At 9. On a school night. Alone.

\- Are you just gonna hang out? her dad asked.

\- Yeah, Missy said, and nudged Pepper in the side, so she started nodding.

He nodded too. - Cool.

\- Mum? Cool?

Her mum barely looked up from her book. - It's cool with me, honey. As long as your dad drives you.

\- Dad? she glanced back over at him.

He gestured, and said, - Go ahead and get in the car. I'll be out in a moment.

They didn't question Missy when she came back downstairs with the big black duffel bag swung over her shoulder, either.

\- Why would they? she hissed as they walked down the pavement to the car.

\- It looks suspicious.

\- You're just saying that 'cos you know what's inside.

They crawled into the backseat- Missy always did that, sat in the backseat with her when she could've just sat up front, like most people did in their family's car and their was a guest- and it was that thoughtfulness that she figured might be the thing that kept them from getting arrested, wouldn't it? Would she let anything bad happen to them?

Pepper was nervous.

\- So where am I dropping you off, exactly? Missy's dad asked over his shoulder as he pulled out on to the street.

\- Town center.

\- Are you meeting anyone there?

\- No, she had her chin jutted defiantly.

\- And you're really just going to hang out in town? he looked at her with raised eyebrows in the rear view mirror. - 'Cos listen, I was 15 once, too, and I did a lot of dumb shit.

\- Dad.

\- I mean, you might not think it, but I get it, I do.

Pepper watched Missy's face carefully for any signs that she was about to falter, but all she did was sit up straighter and say, - Kids nowadays aren't like they were 30 years ago, Dad. They're contemplative. Philosophical. They don't go 'round doing dumb shit," she put quotation marks around "dumb shit." - They make art.

\- ...you're going into Colchester right now to do art?

She bit back a smirk. - No, then glanced over at Pepper. Oh my God, she mouthed.

\- Okay, he lifted his thumbs off the steering wheel, shoulders raised. - I'll shut up.

\- You don't have to shut up, she murmured, looking out the window, but he didn't say anything else until they came to the center of town.

\- Here good?

\- Yeah, Missy slid her hand through the car handle and popped the door open. She pushed Pepper out on to the street first, staying behind momentarily. She was leaned over the barrier between the front and back seat, talking and talking. Pepper waited patiently and scuffed her sneakers on the kerb, tilting her head back. The night air was sharp against her cheeks, and she hadn't even thought to bring a jacket earlier. She was hoping Missy wasn't going to keep them at this for too long. Right as she thought that, the girl herself stepped out of the car with the bag, and it sped off.

\- What was that about? she asked.

\- What do you mean? Missy was crouched over the bag, fiddling with the pockets. - I was just telling him that I'd text him to pick us later, right? Now c'mon! We don't have that much time.

She grabbed Pepper by the elbow, beginning to drag them down the street.

\- I figure that we start farthest from here, and work our way back, so that when my dad comes to pick us up we'll be there and we won't have to worry 'bout rushing back.

\- So, er, Pepper swallowed. - What is the point farthest from here?

\- I figure we'll do an easy place first, she explained. - That big graffiti wall on the back end of town? I saw it when we went into Colchester the other day. It's cool, right?

\- Does that really stick it to the man?

\- Practice, Pepper, she patted her on the shoulder. - I mean, I've never done something like this before. Have you?

\- Well of course not.

\- Right. So we practice.

\- Okay.

It wasn't a very far walk to the wall, and eventually Missy let go of Pepper- she was going to have bruises, being half-drug everywhere by that girl. They ducked behind a portable when they did arrive, Missy pointing enthusiastically. There were already a lot of people there. Older teenagers. Boys. Dangerous looking older teenage boys, armed with spray cans and cigarettes and working eerily quietly.

\- These are the blokes I'm talking about, Pepper.

\- Er...

\- These are the blokes sticking it to the man!

Pepper looked at them. The boy closest to her, the one she could see clearest in the harsh street lamp light, was spray painting a dick. His shoulders were moving up and down in silent laughter.

\- Why are they being so quiet?

\- So the coppers don't catch them. They patrol here, I'm guessing.

She furrowed her eyebrows. - Then why are we here?

\- Because, she repeated exasperatedly. - We're doing something rebellious. We're teenagers, for fuck's sake.

\- Your speech in the car-

\- My speech in the car was to ease my dad's suspicions, Pepper.

\- Right.

\- 15 year olds aren't contemplative and philosophical.

\- Right, I mean, I figured you were just taking the piss out of him.

\- I was, she looked back quickly, then readjusted the shoulder strap of the duffel bag and stood up a bit. - Alright, ready?

\- Ready for what?

She walked out from behind the portable, and Pepper felt her stomach drop to her knees. Christ, she thought, but followed her anyways.

Missy was walking with her head held high, the arms of her jean jacket crossed, and said nothing. Several of the boys turned around from their work at the sound of the spray paint bottles clanking against one another, jostled by her leg.

\- Oi, one of the boys whispered angrily, approaching her, weedy and tall and terrifying. She fully expected him to be shivving them, soon enough. - 'e fook you fink you're doin' 'ere?

Missy's facade slipped, just for a second, and Pepper saw a little girl who did not want to be here. But then she smiled, and swallowed her down, and said, - To paint, right?

The boy had small, pointy teeth like fucked-up dagger blades, and his sneer put them on full display. - Iono what y'fink 'is is, princess, but it innit yer tea party.

She picked the bag up over her head and threw it to the ground.

\- Go 'head an' look inside, she said, purposefully dirtying up her accent even more. Pepper thought of her own posh voice, and decided to let Missy do all the speaking for now and forever.

The boy looked at her, then the bag, then her again, warily, and kicked the bag back with his feet. Pepper watched Missy watching him calmly as he got down- by then having attracted a crowd- and slowly pulled back the zipper. He pulled back the edge of the fabric, then nodded approvingly.

\- Nice, he said.

\- Thank you, she said, with just a hint of smitten in her words. Pepper groaned, internally.

He stood up. - 'at's quite a gift, princess.

Missy narrowed her eyes. - It's not a gift.

Oh fuck. This was it. This was how they were going to die. Fuck...

\- Sure 'tis, he glanced around at the other boys flanking him. They were all grinning too. - Right? 'is a lovely gift.

\- Give it back, Missy said as convincingly threatening as she could likely muster. She had miscalculated, to a deadly fault.

\- Scamper alon', chilluns, another boy spat.

\- Unless ya wan' us t'do somefink we'll regret.

Pepper gripped Missy's elbow. - C'mon, she muttered.

\- Y'shoul' listen to yer frien', princess.

Missy just stood there, shoulders back, frozen, when suddenly there was a crash and the whir of blue lights and sirens.

\- Oh fook!

Boys scrambled apart like rats. Paint cans shattered against the concrete top, spinning away dizzily. They leaped over chain-link fence and kicked up dirt in their mad dash to get away. The police, two of them, had arrived out of nowhere, it seemed, and there was virtually no one left. Even the boy with the dagger-teeth had abandoned the bag and disappeared. All that remained, Pepper realized, were her and Missy, who was still frozen, glued to her side.

\- Well, what do we have here? one of the cops walked towards them, swinging her flashlight.

\- This isn't what it looks like, Pepper tried lamely.

The cop raised her eyebrows.

Fuck me, she thought. Fuck everything.

Damon had literally just pulled into his parking spot on the street when Suzi come running out of the house, waving the phone. He could see, even from the car, in the practical darkness, that her face was as bright a red as a tomato.

This was not going to be good.

He reached over and fumbled for the passenger side door, pushing it open as she reached the pavement.

\- What is it? he asked, not really wanting to hear her answer but asking regardless.

\- Looks like you're going back into town! she half-shouted, brandishing the phone in his face.

\- What-

\- I was just on the phone with the police, Damon, I- oh crap.

Coming down her own lawn was Holly Coxon, equally pissed to high hell.

\- SUZI! she screeched. - Your hooligan daughter got my Pepper arrested!

Suzi sat up out of the car. - My daughter? How is this all my daughter's fault? They were both arrested!

Damon gaped. - Arrested?!

Holly turned to look at him. Her eyes were flashing, like there was a fire in them. The fire of high hell, he guessed. With loose tendrils of hair flying about her face she looked like the Devil. - Pepper and Missy are at the police station, where they are being detained until we go pick them up, she was breathing unevenly. - Because they were arrested!

\- I don't...

It was then that he spotted Graham jogging down to them, and he couldn't help but sigh. Graham was a voice of reason. Sanity.

\- GRAHAM! They are insinuating that it was Pepper's fault that she was arrested! Holly stamped her foot.

He looked between Holly and Suzi, mouth forming words silently, like he couldn't comprehend what was happening. Damon could barely follow either.

\- Graham! Holly insisted petulantly, looking at him like, Go on, do something.

\- Look, hon, he came up behind his wife, touching her shoulder lightly. She visibly balked away from him. - We should just go and pick her up, we should just handle this- his eyes briefly found Damon's, then he coughed and looked away -separately.

\- But it was-

\- Holly.

\- Listen, bitch, Suzi started, and Holly's jaw dropped open.

\- I- she turned an even darker shade of red, and Damon just wanted to pull Suzi into the car and drive off. He and everyone watched Holly for signs of implosion, but all she did was ball her fists, and do something he never would've guessed to do in a million years, which was to clench her teeth and yell, - You godless cunt, your family has corrupted my daughter!

Graham grabbed her by the shoulders. - Holy crap, he said, pulling her back a little bit. Damon had never seen someone more embarrassed. - Holly, just...I'll go get Pepper, okay? Go inside.

\- You can't tell me what to do!

\- Holly.

\- Hey, hey, hey, Damon leaned out of his car. - I have a solution.

All eyes except Graham's turned to glare at him.

\- What? Suzi and Holly said in unison.

\- Why don't Graham and I just take this car and go get the girls? No fighting, right? he looked at Graham hopefully. He still had his gaze carefully trained on the ground.

\- It's fine with me, he said quietly.

\- I don't understand why I can't come, Suzi threw her hands up.

\- 'Cos," he explained. - It's one car, better for the environment, one dad for each girl, and neither of us will break into a fight at the police station, which would be horribly embarrassing and the talk of the town if it did happen.

That seemed to be the point that got Holly. She folded her arms tightly across her chest. - I suppose that makes sense, she admitted gruffly.

\- Fine, Suzi shook her head. - Whatever. Go get Missy, Damon, I'm going back inside.

\- Me too, Holly said, and they momentarily paused to shoot each other one final, nasty eye before stalking back up to their respective houses.

Damon watched them, then stuck his head back out at Graham. - Well, he grinned. - Get in, right?

\- Er, he swallowed, hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. - Yes.

He slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

\- We'll have to hurry, Damon said to himself, as pleasantly as he could, because Graham looked terribly uncomfortable and on edge. - All that squabbling takes up time, we should have been at the police station already.

Graham laughed nervously, clearly forced, as Damon pulled the car back out- again- on to the street.

\- Are- are you alright? he had to ask after a few seconds of stifled driving. Graham was practically shrinking away from him.

\- Me? he squeaked. - I'm just dandy.

\- Okay. You just seem a bit-

\- I'm just worried about Pepper, you know? he continued. - And our wives. Urgh. All that fighting, right?

\- Well, he bit his lip and looked at Graham. Graham was very, very interested in his fingernail. - I was just worried after the other afternoon.

\- What afternoon?

\- With Holly.

\- Oh- he blinked. - Er. Barely even remember it, you see?

\- Okay, Damon said, but he still had his reservations. Something was definitely wrong. Not to say that Graham couldn't be awkward and stand-offish any other time, but he figured that was just his style. This was straight up...avoidance. Of everything.

He elected to ignore it for right then, however. - Shall I put on music?

Graham shrugged, biting the aforementioned fingernail and staring out the window. Damon sighed, moving to click his CD player on, when he remembered he still had the Seymour disc Graham had given him in there. It was too late, however, and it turned on, immediately blasting 'Bang.'

\- Heh, he said.

Graham was staring in horror at the dash.

\- I'll turn that off, um- you like... he slammed his finger into the eject button repeatedly, but it was slow to process and he finally just muted the damn thing. Graham looked just about ready to crawl into his shirt like a turtle. - Sorry, and he switched it to the radio.

\- Damon... the other man began.

\- Y-yes? he glanced between Graham and the road quickly.

\- I- oh, shit, you just passed the police station.

\- What?

\- It's right back there.

Damon cursed, and swung around the block again before pulling up to the front of the police station.

\- So... he said slowly before they went in. - What is it ya wanted to tell me?

\- Er...nothing, he shook his head and opened up his door. - Never mind.

\- You can tell me, Graham.

Graham was staring at him with eyes, that, in the dull warmth of the orange street lamp, were the worst mix of guilt and sadness and longing he had ever seen.

\- Later, I- we should go get- he pointed weakly to the building -the girls, you know.

\- Okay, he frowned, stepping out of the car and making his way to the kerb. Graham followed him up to the doors, always a few paces behind him, and all Damon wanted in the world right then was to see what he was thinking.

There were some times when, honestly, he almost thought that Graham felt the same way that he did. The emotions that had been in his eyes- the guilt, the sadness, the longing- that was everything that Damon felt, too. He couldn't explain any of it. He barely knew Graham. But it had practically been after the first time they met, when he had the first flashback, and they were on that bridge together, that Damon had felt it, that indescribable pull to Graham. And then the flashbacks had started happening almost regularly when he was with him, and the feeling wasn't so much of a pull anymore as it was a magnet in his chest that only wanted to be with him, all day long. It was driving him half-mad, to be honest. Even now, in the bloody police station going to pick his daughter up, it was all he could think about.

He was an awful husband and father and still, all he wanted was Graham.

\- Can I help you?

He was snapped out of his inner monologue by the pumpkin-faced man behind Plexiglas in the police station. The receptionist equivalent for the police, he supposed he was. That was why they were up there after all.

\- My name is Damon Albarn, he began. - My wife got a call saying our daughter had been arrested?

\- What is your daughter's name? he droned, posing his fingers over his PC's keyboard.

\- Missy Albarn.

His fingers clacked along the keys. - Yes, we do have a Missy Albarn here.

\- Er, he pointed to Graham. - I believe his daughter was arrested along with mine?

The man stared blankly at Graham. - Her name, please?

Graham cleared his throat. - Pepper Coxon.

More clacking. - Yes, Missy Albarn and Pepper Coxon were both arrested at approximately 9:15 this night for intentions of vandalism.

Graham groaned. - What happened, exactly?

The man blinked. - I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to bring that up with the police chief, then he pressed an intercom button. - Chief! Two parents here to pick up their children. There was some mumbling on the other end, and then he turned back to them. - Go right ahead down that hallway, second door on the left.

\- Thank you, Damon said.

They went down the short hallway the man had directed them to and stopped in front of the prescribed door. POLICE CHIEF E. MORGAN, it read on the window in big block letters. Graham stared straight ahead and pulled the door open.

The room was smallish, dressed in the drab, poorly lit attire of bureaucratic offices and housing a very stout man with a pink face at its helm. Police Chief E. Morgan, Damon assumed. He looked up from his computer and smiled at them somberly.

\- Take a seat, he instructed.

There were two plastic grey chairs in front of his desk. Both men sat at them awkwardly, as they were a wee bit undersized and almost made one feel as though they were a kid again, called into the principal's office.

\- So you're the parents of the two girls we found tonight, E. Morgan clasped his meaty hands together, resting his chin on them. His smile had faded but he was still wearing a rather pleasant expression, so at least there was that.

\- Yes, Damon said.

\- Yep, Graham echoed, quieter.

\- We conduct regular patrols along one warehouse towards the edge of town. It's a popular spot for a teenagers to hang out- he tilted his head - so as you can expect, we have lots of noise complaints, drug issues, graffiti down there.

Damon swallowed. - They, er...they weren't in possession of...drugs. Were they?

\- No, E. Morgan said. - Like I said, this was a routine patrol and your girls were found down there with a large duffel bag full of spray paint cans.

\- Oh, Damon said, chewing his lip. He could feel Graham's eyes on the side of his face, but every time he glanced over to look at him he was staring at his hands again. Christ, don't think about Graham, focus on the matter at hand... - Right, so, they were going t-to, em, graffiti the warehouse, I'm assuming.

\- Well, that is what one of them told us. Both of them claimed they meant no trouble and hadn't realized it was illegal to spray paint the side of that warehouse, he sighed. - Which is actually a common misconception among most teenagers we pick up there. I don't think many realize that building's actual use as a shipping parts manufacturer.

\- Oh.

\- Honestly, he continued. - I didn't get the impression that either of your girls were troublemakers, and they have been nothing but apologizing and polite. That is, generally, the case. Girls like them often get swept up into peer pressure and think that by doing something like this, it makes them cool. One of the girls confessed that they had been having trouble with some local boys just minutes prior, trying to steal their bag, he frowned. - Those local boys are, actually, the main reason we have to conduct these patrols.

\- I see.

\- So I think you understand what I'm getting at, then, when I say this was a warning and that you can take your girls home now.

\- Of course.

\- But that I fully expect for them to understand that they don't get a second chance, after this one, and that if there is another incident like this they will be held accountable.

\- Yes, of course.

\- All right, he stood up. - I'll have Chris take you to them and draw up some release papers.

\- Thank you, sir.

E. Morgan clapped them both on the back as they walked towards the door. - Really, they seem like good girls. Do your best to keep them on track.

\- Right. Right, right, and thank you again.

He shook their hands, pushed them a little bit into the hallway, and then closed his door again.

\- I'm assuming Chris is the receptionist bloke, Damon turned to Graham.

\- Right, probably, he scratched his neck and starting walking as if he were about to leave when Damon did the stupidest thing he could've done, which was to grab him by the arm and hold him back.

\- Wait, he mumbled, looking around. - I- please, what did ya want to tell me? he was severely coming off as desperate by then, and he was beginning to not really care. That was what he was.

\- Damon, Graham said, annoyed, yanking his arm away. - Christ, I told you already, we can talk about it later.

\- Graham.

\- Damon! I don't know what you're getting at with this, but you need to tone it down! he was beginning to seem more exasperated than anything. - Okay?

He groaned, placing his hand over his forehead but nodding anyways. - Fine, fine. But-

\- No buts, Damon. Not now.

It was at the worst possible moment that the pumpkin-faced receptionist, presumably "Chris," appeared in front of them. He glanced back and forth between them- Damon, mopey and scrabbling with Graham's sleeve, who was very very red in the face- and sighed, - This way, please.

As he led them further down the hallway Damon kept trying to get Graham to look at him, staring at him with wide eyes, and nudging him with his elbow every few seconds but he was clearly having none of it, lips folded tightly and glaring straight ahead.

\- Here we are, Chris motioned to another door. - Your daughters are in here- ah, I'll let you have a moment with them, when you come back out I should have all of their papers ready, he leaned over and unlocked the bolt with a key on his pocket chain, pushing the door open. He gestured for them to go inside.

It was another small room, squarish and composed entirely out of grey brick, with a bench running the length of the farthest wall. Missy and Pepper were sitting on it, sporting matching glares and crossed legs.

\- Well, Graham said flatly. - You're both being released.

\- We know, Missy looked up. - They were never going to arrest us.

Damon furrowed his eyebrows. - You were arrested. They've let you off the hook with a warning, and-

\- We didn't do anything, though! Pepper threw her hands up.

\- Obviously, Graham rolled his eyes. - That's why you're here, after all. Because you didn't do anything.

\- Dad! We didn't!

\- I- I don't really want to hear it right now, Pepper, he held his hand up, then, muttering, - Let's just get out of here, okay?

Both girls, at the very least, were compliant and sort of quiet after that, following their fathers out of the cell block sulkily, and Chris was waiting for them outside.

\- You can come do the paperwork in the front, he said briskly, leading them back down the hallway. - And then you should be able to leave.

Damon sat in one of the padded grey chairs without arms beside Graham, causing the other man to physically tense up. He disregarded him and sat with his knees splayed out, smoothing the clipboarded papers out on his knee and humming a Specials' song as he got to filling them out. Their daughters sat across the way, still sullen. They were avoiding eye contact with him, as was Graham. It's an odd thing, he thought, to have everyone in the room actively avoiding me. It's humbling.

He finished the forms quickly- it was mostly just a census-type thing for Missy and some signatures- and brought it back up to Chris the Pumpkin-Faced Receptionist.

\- Thank you, he said, taking the forms and efficiently filing them in a cabinet at his knees before looking back up at Damon. - You and your daughter are free to leave now.

\- Thank you, Damon echoed him, more emphatically.

He went back to his chair and waited for Graham to finish as well. He did so soon after him and then they all walked to the car. The night air was chiller than earlier, and with the frosty tips of noses and fingers also came a sullen aloneness that made both pairs of father and daughter feel further away from each other than they really were.

\- Where's your car? Pepper asked her father.

\- Oh. Er... he fiddled with his glasses. - We just took the one.

\- Is mum at the house? Missy asked. - Why'n't she come?

\- Uh, Damon couldn't help but snicker a little bit. Missy and Pepper looked confused. - Just- em, just get in the car, 'kay?

He waited til Graham had gone 'round the side and gotten in before he did. The girls were sitting far apart in the back, once again with matching expressions, scowls, faces pressed against the windows. He sighed. Graham was staring at his hands.

It was a long, silent drive to the house, past scenery just a shade lighter than the pitch black sky. He kept the radio off. Once home, Graham thanked him, mumbling, took Pepper and left without much else.

\- So why didn't mum come? Missy asked again as they went up the pavement to their own house.

\- Well, he began, shoving his hands in his pockets. - She and Pepper's mum had a bit of a- a quarrel, really, nothing...er, they had a fight, and, uh, they both took it very personally- not that they innit have the right to, course- and we elected that it'd be better if Graham and I just came, he took a deep breath. - Before we go in I w-want you to know that your mother's very, very upset. I mean, we both are but...just...

She was making a face, shadows dropping in and out of sight in the harsh view of the porch light. - What do you mean?

\- Just drop the attitude, alright? In general, but especially right now.

\- Fine, she huffed. - Dropping the attitude.

\- You can do better than that.

She dropped her head, and when she looked back up at him she was wearing a very forced smile that made her look much older and sadder than 15. - Good? she asked, sort of tossing her hands before reaching around him for the doorknob.

\- Missy.

\- Christ, Dad... she wrapped her arms around herself as she walked in, and all he could really do was pinch the bridge of his nose and follow her. Since when had he been this exhaustively muttered 'Dad' character to her? He wasn't a caricature, but he'd begun to feel like one. He, too, felt much older and sadder than he actually was.

He wanted to blame it on something besides the magnet in his chest; it was getting harder and harder to do that.

Because so many days he woke up and thought that if he just had him everything else would sort itself out.

But that wasn't true.

He was happy. He had to be.

Suzi was sitting in her favorite armchair in the living room, arms crossed and face drawn into her puckered lips, like a black hole.

\- Mum- Missy began, but she shushed her.

\- Upstairs, she said, very pinched, like her teeth were clenched so tightly that there was only a small opening were words could get out. That was exactly what it was.

Missy followed her orders, slinking upstairs along the edges of the room like a guilty dog. Suzi watched her with hard eyes. When they heard the slam of a door she turned to him.

\- I'm going to bed, she whispered. - We'll deal with this in the morning. I- she shook her head. - I can't right now, Damon.

\- Okay, he spoke equally quietly.

\- Okay, she repeated.

\- I talked to her, she-

\- Seriously, she stared at him. - Not now.

He swallowed. - Okay.

They went to bed in more silence. Silence. That was all he had gotten lately. Had the world forgotten how to speak? It was acting as though emotions were overrated. He wanted to go up to the people in the streets and shake them by their shoulders, scream at them until they did it back.

He wanted Graham to talk to him like he did in the flashbacks.

He wanted Graham.


	5. Chapter 5

Pepper wasn't really mad at Missy. She had been at first, when they were at the police station. She had been really mad then, but her anger had faded once she'd slept on it. Sleeping on things dulled them like that.

She texted her that morning at the breakfast table. Holly says i can't ride with you and your mum to school today, she texted, making sure to undercapitalize the 'I'.

Bitch, she texted back.

i'm also grounded so

yeah me too lol

There was the '...', like she was texting something, but then it disappeared. Pepper sighed and slid her phone into her backpack before Holly came down and realized she had it. Along with being grounded, she was supposed to be banned from her phone. That hadn't much been enforced, as her dad sat at the table now and hadn't said a word while she was on it. He could be pretty cool like that, sometimes. He had not been cool last night. Him and Holly had lost their shit when she came home. In an odd way, though, it felt good, like she was getting her penance for what had happened, as the police had apparently not given it to them. She was still in awe, despite what she'd said to her dad, that they'd gotten off scot-free like that. And the terrible straight-laced part of her, however hard she tried to hide it from Missy, needed to be punished for the whole ordeal. She needed to feel equal with the universe again.

Holly came downstairs, then, and she dropped her head back down. She was sort of afraid that if she made eye contact with her she might burn her, or something. If anyone had the power to set other people on fire with their eyes, it was Holly.

\- Have you had breakfast yet? she asked Pepper. Her voice was flat.

\- Cereal, she muttered from beneath her hair.

There were bumps from the kitchen and then the whir of the blender, and her dad stood up.

\- Ready to go? he looked down at Pepper. She wasn't so keen on making eye contact with him yet, either, even if he was being somewhat chill.

\- Yeah, she reached into the chair beside her and grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder.

\- Okay, well, he gestured towards the door. He picked his own bag up and said goodbye to Holly. Pepper was already halfway out the door when she heard them start yelling. Part of her wanted to stay- the two of them fought a lot, and she was curious- but the larger part of her seized up and continued walking down the pavement. No kid wants to witness the unraveling of their parents' marriage. Pepper was certainly no exception.

She got in the car at 7:52, eight minutes before she was supposed to be at school. It was 8:09 when her dad finally joined her.

\- I'm late now-

\- I know, Pepper, he snapped. - I know, he jammed his car keys in and angrily started the car, if there was such a way to angrily start a car. - I'll go into the office and write you a note or something.

She stared at the dash. She contemplated asking him if he and Holly had had another fight but decided against it. He was livid. His knuckles were clenched white on the steering wheel, jaw popped out and locked. She only saw him like this after fights with Holly. Last night, too, but that had been almost a tamer kind of angry. That was "my-kid-got-arrested" angry. This was what Pepper imagined to be "my-marriage-is-failing" angry.

It probably wasn't healthy, how okay she was with their marriage problems. Of course, she didn't really like watching them fighting, but she'd realized around a year earlier that if they did get divorced she might never have to see Holly again, as her dad was her only available biological parent. Holly was not her biological parent. If they got divorced, she'd never have to see her again if she didn't want to. So she was totally okay with that bit.

\- Alright, her dad stared straight out the window as he pulled up outside Stanway.

\- Goodbye, she said.

\- Bye.

\- You're picking me up, right?

\- Yes.

She nodded and opened the car door, stumbled out on to the kerb. She began to wave but he had already shut her door and drove away. Guess he wasn't going into the office to write her a note, she supposed.

As she trudged the way up into school- which was already in session- she thought about what her mother had said last night, about how Missy and her family were a bad influence and she wasn't to hang out with any of them anymore. The Missy part she understood; that wasn't to say that she was going to stop hanging out with her now, because that was stupid, but that Holly had specifically mentioned Missy's WHOLE family was kind of odd. It wasn't as though she was hanging with Missy's mum and dad all the time. It was almost as if she was addressing someone else. That someone else, she thought, maybe perhaps being her father, who did actually spend a lot of time with the two of them. But why would she try and ban him from talking to the neighbors? He'd mentioned in the car, offhandedly, something about Missy's mum and Holly getting into a fight, but that didn't include either dad in it.

She put those thoughts on the back burner as she went into the school office. It was a bit embarrassing, getting a tardy note like this. She was barely ever late. Once again, the day would've been so much simpler had Holly let her go with Missy to school! But things could never just be simple with Holly. They had to be the opposite of simple.

\- We're still in 1st period, right? she nervously asked the school receptionist.

\- Yes, the woman said, something a bit mean in her voice, handing Pepper her tardy note. - You're only 15 minutes late.

Pepper nodded knowingly, then turned around slowly and scuffed her shoes against the tile walking to class. She had 1st period with Missy. Sat next to her, in fact, in the back of the classroom. Every class she had with Missy, the other girl had insisted on them taking seats in the back of the classroom. Just another delinquent habit, she sneered to herself in Holly's voice. What a bitch. She hoped that her dad divorced her and left her alone and broke.

She pushed through the 1st period doors. All eyes in the room swung to look at her. She couldn't help but blush a little, coughing and stammering and marching weakly over to her teacher, shoving the note at him.

\- Take a seat, he dead panned.

Missy was staring at her intently. She slid into her chair and immediately ripped a sheet of notebook paper out of her binder and started scribbling on it. The teacher had begun to drone on about the day's boring lesson when Missy nudged her in the leg with her big toe, quietly passing the folded sheet of notebook paper between their desks without looking down.

Pepper unfolded it as covertly as she could in her lap.

why you late? it read.

Pausing to wait for the teacher to turn around to the board and start working another boring math problem, she slid her pencil into her lap too and scrawled back a note.

Parents fighting lol, she wrote and passed back.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Missy unfolded it and read it, then made a face.

what the hell does that mean, her reply asked.

They were arguing and my dad was late getting in the car, she answered as briefly as she could and passed it back. The teacher had turned around in his lecture's continuation. Missy looked at her and gave her a small, silent nod, then shoved the paper in her pocket.

Class ended an agonizingly long half hour later, and they could finally talk with real words- for three minutes, at least, until the 2nd period bell rang and they had different classes.

\- Jesus, what were they arguing about? Missy laughed, kind of shocked.

\- I dunno, she shrugged. - The typical stuff, I suppose. Holly's always mad at my dad for some reason or another.

\- Was it 'bout last night? she asked. - 'Cos my parents are at each other's throats 'cos of last night.

\- Your parents are fighting? she couldn't say she wasn't surprised. She had never seen Missy's parents as anything but loving and jokey with each other.

\- Yeah, she chewed her lip. - Not really like them but whatever I guess.

Pepper knew from personal experience that it really wasn't ever just "whatever, I guess," because as she'd already come to the conclusion in her head, no child wanted to witness the break down of their parents' marriage. Of course, she didn't think Missy's parents' marriage was breaking down. Unless it was. She hoped it wasn't, if not just for Missy's sake then because they actually seemed like a pretty happy couple. Her parents? If they got divorced the next day no one would blink an eye. Missy's parents? Well they certainly hadn't struck her as such. But you never really knew what went on behind closed doors, as the saying went.

\- Yo, earth to Pepper, Missy was laughing again, waving her hands in Pepper's face.

\- Oh, she shook her head. - Kinda lost in thought.

\- Yeah, you nearly ran into that water fountain, she giggled. - 'Kay, well, this is where I get off, stay out of your head and don't injure yourself, Coxon!

\- See you at lunch.

\- Right, and then she disappeared back into the crowd. Pepper hugged her books closer and continued on to History.

Come lunchtime she was exhausted. She hadn't slept well the night prior- tossing and turning, of course- so she was pretty frazzled and drained. She didn't do well with anything less than eight hours of sleep, as awfully straight-laced as that was, she had felt like a zombie going from one class to the other all day. The teachers had all melted together into one mega-boring super-teacher, possibly the worst creature in all of existence. God, she hated school.

\- You could prolly take a nap now, Missy suggested as they settled in behind the fence at their regular spot. It had become "their" spot, not just "Pepper's" spot, recently. This was most likely exactly why, despite Holly's whining, she wasn't about to stop hanging out with Missy. Sure, she was kind of a troublemaker, and she still hadn't really apologized for what had happened with the boys and the police and all, but she was pretty much Pepper's best friend by this point, and she wasn't quite about to tell her to go fuck off somewhere else because Holly said she had to.

\- I'm not taking a nap on school grounds, she frowned.

\- Why not?

\- 'Cos I'm not.

\- Yeah, but why not?

\- Why don't you do it then, if that's what you want?

\- I slept perfectly well last night, thank you, she held a hand up to her chest solemnly, swinging her sandwich with her other one and snatching a bite before she continued. - My mum sent me straight to bed when we got home.

\- No fair! Really? My parents both stayed up to rip me a new one.

\- Yeah, I think I got off pretty lucky, she shrugged. - I mean, like I said, they're mostly just mad at each other. I dunno why. They grounded me and all but my dad's been pleasant enough to me all morning. I don't think any of this is really even gonna hold up, you know?

\- Like you're not even gonna stay grounded? she asked warily.

\- Prolly not. My parents aren't big on the whole "discipline" thing, right? she grinned.

\- So I've gathered, Pepper rolled her eyes.

\- See, my dad's folks are super hippie-like and stuff, and practically let him do whatever when he was growing up. In London in the 70s, no less. So he's chill with this kinda stuff 'cos it's what he did as a kid too. And on the other side of the spectrum, my mum had really strict parents who didn't let her do anything growing up, so she wants to let me do cool stuff to let me lead the childhood she never got, she took another bite of her sandwich. - They're basically the best possible pairing I could'a got.

\- That sounds lovely, Pepper muttered. - But on my side I've still got the greatest bitch in the world and a dad who doesn't have half the balls to stand up to her.

Missy howled with laughter. - Wow. Harsh.

\- Well, it's true.

\- I like your dad-

\- I never said I didn't like him, she clarified. - I'm just pointing out that he can be a bit spineless.

\- Yeah, Pepper, that's harsh, she raised her eyebrows. - Your dad is cool! He was in a band!

Pepper squinted, sort of laughing. - What are you talking about?

\- Your dad was in a band. Did you not know this?

\- No! she exclaimed. - How do you know about it and not me?

\- Your dad gave my dad a copy of his band's album. He's been playing it in the car nonstop.

She gaped. - He never told me this! Why- but why'd he give it to your dad?

\- I don't know. They're pretty good friends, I think.

\- Okay, she was still frowning, confused. - My dad...in a band.

\- It's good, too. He sounds pretty dreamy.

Pepper pretended to puke, much to Missy's amusement. - Ew, you're fucking disgusting Missy. That's so gross.

\- Ha!

\- Wait, wait, he sings on it? My dad? Singing?

\- Yes! Missy said. - Hello? You know, like, nothing about your dad.

\- I can't believe it.

\- A really good band, too!

\- That is so weird.

\- Cool weird.

\- I'm not so sure of that.

\- Why not?

\- How would you feel if your dad was in a band and I came up to you talking about how good they were and how dreamy he sounded?! Pepper was on edge even more so now. It just...squelched her, all of it. Icky. No one wanted to hear what their parents did before they were parents. It was like a sin against nature.

Missy was rolling her eyes. - You're so overly dramatic, Pepper. Jesus.

\- Tell me, how would you feel?

\- Even if he was- which he wasn't, he's been a bloody voice actor forever-

\- Okay, what if I found some of your dad's voice acting work from 20 years ago and listened to it in the car with my dad and went up to you talking about how good it was and how dreamy he sounded?

\- I'm pretty sure your dad does have one of my dad's audio books from 20 years ago.

\- WHAT?

\- Why are you reacting to all of this like...this? Like I said, you are a straight-up drama queen, Pepper Coxon.

\- Because it's weird! It's really, really weird, Missy!

\- And I'm saying, how?

\- Our dads trading tapes like that?

\- They're friends, she stared at her inquisitively. - Weirdo.

\- Me weirdo? Them weirdo!

\- Not really.

\- No, she pointed at her emphatically. - My dad- assuming that he is a retired rock star- I mean, he obviously doesn't just go around advertising that, right? But he goes and gives and your dad a copy with apparently no problem?

She squinted. - Your point being?

\- Don't you think that's a bit suspicious?

Her mouth dropped open a little bit. - Suspicious of what? If you are actually implying what I think you're implying right now we are going to stop being friends.

\- I'm just saying!

\- You are the fucking weirdo in this situation, okay? You are.

\- My dad doesn't have friends! she tried to explain exasperatedly. - But suddenly he's all hunky-dory with someone he's known for a week, give or take?

\- Pepper, you twit, you don't have any friends either and we were in a heist together last night! One week, and we're all hunky-dory. Are you trying to convince me that we're lesbians?

\- No, she scoffed, tensing her shoulders. - No, I just...you have to understand where I'm coming from.

\- Where?

\- What do you mean?

\- I mean, where are you coming from, exactly?

Pepper let the back of her head hit the fence. - I dunno, it's just like...with the two of them it's always one thing or another. Always just about to rip their marriage apart. Literally nothing could surprise me at this point, and recently I've felt almost like I'm just waiting for it. You know?

Missy nodded, unsurely at first but faster. - No, I- I guess I get that, but then she grinned. - Doesn't make you any less of a weirdo, saying that 'bout our dads.

\- Oh, fuck off.

Graham was, incidentally, still thinking about everything Holly had said the night prior in his head. To be more accurate, it was running circles up there, and he didn't really have much of a choice but to listen to it. He was regularly submitted to his head's whims like that.

He was thinking of her jealousy. And how she could be so petty as to actually ban him from talking to any of the neighbors.

\- Think about it Graham, she had the eyes of a madwoman, pacing around the kitchen table. This was by the point that they'd finished lecturing Pepper and sent her to bed. It was nearly one in the morning.

\- Think about what? he asked tiredly.

\- Since they've come, only bad things have happened.

\- What, one week ago?

\- Exactly! In that time they've already done so much destruction...

\- Destruction, Holly? Everything bad has happened tonight and tonight only. You're stretching the limits of your memory to suit your own agenda.

She stared at him. - Don't!

\- Don't what?

\- Talk to me like I'm crazy!

\- When did I ever- what? Holly, Christ, it's too late to be doing this.

\- Pepper doesn't get to see the neighbor girl anymore, she started nodding again, at her own thoughts. - And none of us should see them either. They're a bad family. All of them. They're tramps, whores, godless, the lot of them. I mean, Graham, she got our little girl arrested! And you heard what Suzi was saying to me, I mean...

\- Holly, you can't just say 'No seeing them anymore.' They're literally our neighbors. How do we avoid them? he shook his head. - Why would we avoid them? Avoiding them isn't going to solve any of our problems.

She drew a hand to her lips. - They're our entire problem.

That had been a lie, and they both knew it. But her point had stood, for really no better reason than Graham didn't have the balls to stand up to her. He knew that she was being insane. She couldn't just implement a family shun. It wasn't the Middle Ages. But Holly always had been like this. She overreacted when something she didn't like happened, and took it out on the rest of her world, which mostly included Graham and Pepper. However long this fancy of hers was going to last, he had no idea. He supposed that eventually she might forget about the whole incident, but she could be rather strong on the grudges. What he figured was going to actually happen was that everyone else might "forget" about the ban and go about their normal day. He knew Pepper sure as hell wasn't going to stop hanging out with Missy. He'd even watched her texting her from under the table with the phone she was supposed to also be banned from using.

Sometimes it was almost like Holly was trying to cut them off from the outside world.

That reason mainly led to Graham not saying anything about Pepper and her phone, because all the dissent on the house rested squarely on her shoulders and dissent was a glimmer of hope. So.

He probably wouldn't think she was as irrational as he thought she was now if she had hated the neighbors from the beginning, because then she might offer up some consistency. When they'd first met them, she'd decided they were going to be the thing to save their normalcy. Was this saved normalcy to her? She had done a complete 360-degree-rotation away from the night of the dinner party- already over a week ago, then- when she'd acted pleasant and graceful and like a good hostess, and had actually shown him affection. But true sentiments never stayed buried. Even he couldn't bury what he really felt towards her.

Whatever that really was.

Back in real time, Holly had another Pilates class. She was leaving, and would he please keep an eye on Pepper while she was gone? That was, to say, make sure she stayed in her room, quiet, and docile for two hours.

He forced a smile goodbye. She still thought they were on the same side.

As it went, he'd already decided he was not going to force poor Pepper to sit in her room for two hours. So once Holly had left, he went up there to let her know she was temporarily un-grounded.

\- Oh, she had said. - Well, uh, actually I'm good, so- and then she'd shut her door.

That not quite being the response he'd expected, he had retreated to the bedroom and was now just kind of moping around in there. He ended up standing at the window, forehead pressing against the glass and feeling horribly lost. All he could see out of it was the street, the neighbor's house, and their own windows pulled shut and cut off with curtains. Lovely, he thought. So frickin' lovely.

It was a warm day with a light breeze, so he pushed the window up for some soothing, fresh air. Then he picked up his laptop and sat down in the chair beneath said window- as he saw it, if he wasn't going to be doing anything else he might as well continue working on the Pembrooke account. Be productive.

Half an hour or so must've slipped by when he started hearing faint tinkling noises, drifting in through the window. They sounded like chimes, or fairy bells. They were absolutely beautiful. He tried and failed to remember if they actually were chimes, as he had a vague recollection that Holly might've hung some on the front yard tree last summer. But when he poked his head out the window, he realized the sounds weren't coming from his property at all. They were from the next one over, the neighbors.'

He closed his eyes and listened. It was hazy, but beginning to take the form of a tune, with very recognizable chords and a plinking melody over top. Nothing he'd heard before, but certainly something he decided he liked.

Was it a recording? What instrument was it?

He leaned his head out the window a little more and listened a little harder, and came to the conclusion that it was a live piano performance, and then remembered which of his neighbor's owned and purportedly operated a piano, and came to a second conclusion that it was no other than Damon Albarn playing, then.

Oh. Damon.

He had been trying not to think about him again. Everything was easier when he put that messy section of his brain into a box, behind a closed door, under wraps. Especially after what had happened in the bath. Making that matter infinitely worse was how Damon had acted at the police station the prior night, yipping and jumping all over him like a man-sized chihuahua and insisting that he tell him what he was thinking.

I'm thinking of you and me! he had wanted to scream.

He wanted someone to tell him what it was that he felt for Damon. He didn't want to call it love. He'd known him for no more than a week, and as he had to keep driving into his thick skull, you couldn't love someone you barely knew.

But right then, all in the world he wanted to do was sit at the window and listen to him play, and that had to count for something more than friendly neighborly benignity.

He'd given him everything; front row tickets, VIP passes, every ribbon and pass conceivable. When he'd asked, he'd asked back if he had ever not pulled out every conceivable stop for him. Which was true, to be fair. He'd been sending him these packages in the mail even when they were shunning each other.

He felt like a stupid fan, regardless, standing behind the stage and trying to stare at him with anything besides love in his eyes. He felt like a fucking teenybopper. And he was almost mad at him, for a second, at the way he could do that to him. Make him feel that breathless rush of unadulterated obsession even after all these years. He hoped that no one was going to come up and talk to him, because he didn't think that he could fake normalcy right then.

He was playing one of the new songs. Photographs. One of Graham's favorites of them, actually. There was something about it that sneaked up on you, nothing Graham had ever been able to accomplish in his material. He was subdued in real life; in his songs he just got all of his emotions out front and center, as fastly and as loudly as possible. At least in the beginning. He had been trying, recently, to hold back a little bit. But he was never able to shroud his sentiments like Damon did. This new album was a treacherous stew of reflection and ghosts, with pitfalls, lines in every song that made Graham's stomach lurch unexpectedly, making him think that there was more of him in it than Damon may admit to.

"Eight hours on a bus from sunset with freedom taking cocaine," Damon sang. That line had made his stomach lurch. The good bad ol' Blur days sprang to his mind. He lovingly shoved them back in the dank cellar of his mind, where they mostly belonged nowadays.

The song was ending, Damon doing trills on the piano and sending it off into hell as people dashed about, and Tony Allen walked out on stage and took the drum set; "This is very- this is rehearsed, believe me!" he looked like he was seconds from dissolving into a fit of cackles. Graham was grinning stupidly again, he could feel it stretched across his face and he barely cared.

There was a pause, then the bass kicked in, and people were cheering. It was a song from one of Damon's various other bands- the band named after the Clint Eastwood movie, right? Christ, Damon loved Clint Eastwood. It was a good tune nonetheless, as were most of Damon's non-Blur songs, all the ones he'd listened to anyways. He wasn't going to go into much more detail than that. The awful selfish part of him screeched sometimes that they weren't really as deep or serious as Blur had been, but he didn't make a point of broadcasting that part of him to the world.

It was then that Damon turned around to look at him. He quirked a smile, and bit his lip, and Graham felt like he was going to die right then and there. Bloody hell, he thought, it's like absolutely nothing has changed since I was fucking 17 years old.

Graham blinked.

There was no pretending that hadn't happened.

The bridge, the bed, his suicide dream, the studio- all of these memory-not-memories, he'd been avoiding them halfway successfully up until then because they were faceless, nameless, but now they were...Damon.

Damon was in all of them. On the bridge. With him in bed. Trying to save him from suicide. Singing in the studio. Playing on stage, in the most vivid Technicolor of all, with a face and a name and all these astounding, overwhelming details to a life Graham hadn't even known was his.

He honestly had no idea what to do with this information. Cry, maybe. At least now the piano had ceased. He was still slack against the window, sort of numb from the his latest revelation. A bit sick, again, too, but the piano had ceased, and he could focus on his breathing, which was currently escaping him.

In. Out.

He needed answers. There was no more hop-scotching around that unfortunate fact.

He needed to talk to Damon.

But...

What would he even say? "Hey, I've been having these weird memory-not-memory slips in time to a life that I'm not even sure is mine, and you've been in every single one of them, in several vaguely romantic situations, and also I masturbated to you in the tub. You know what I'm saying?"

Oh, God. There was no way in hell he could do this. He didn't face his problems head on, goddammit, he was Graham Coxon. He couldn't just go over to Damon's house and pop his head in, say all that shit...

It couldn't hurt, though, could it?

The answer to that question, incidentally, was yes, but he was suddenly infused with a new sense of purpose, in response to a plan of action that was so crazy to him that he thought it might just actually help him. All he had to lose was loneliness and patterns. To quote Spoon.

Holly wouldn't be back for at least another hour, he hoped. Even if he was over at the neighbor's house by then, so what? He was a grown adult man.

As he went down the stairs he thought about that, and then he started listing, in his head, everything from the last memory-not-memories he didn't understand, because it was still really the only one he could remember definitely in his head and as mentioned earlier was the first where Damon was prominent:

1\. Front row tickets, VIP passes, etc.

2\. Shunning each other

3\. "After all these years"

4\. New album/songs

5\. HIS album/songs

6\. Blur

7\. Tony Allen

8\. Damon's various other bands

9\. Blur?!

What he was piecing together- very hazily and disjointedly, albeit- was the story of him and Damon, through a fun house mirror. It all made his head spin. But maybe, just maybe, Damon knew something about the whole matter.

Yeah, that's why he's been treating you like his normal neighbor all this time, a voice in his head sneered at him.

It was by then that he was on Damon's lawn, and there was really just no going back now. He strode as confidently as he could muster up to his front door and knocked, boldly, shoulders set back. He was doing this. This was happening.

The door swung open on his third knock, and he was greeted by Damon's slightly-less-cheerful-than-usual visage with bags under his eyes and unkempt dark blonde hair. His hand, unconsciously or otherwise, drifted to it, flattening pieces into place as his eyes swept over Graham.

\- Yes? he asked rather weakly. - Is there-"

\- Damon, we need to talk.

His eyes were an incredibly watery blue, shot with blood in the white parts. - I thought you said you didn't want to talk to me.

\- I never said that.

\- Well, he sighed.

\- Look, Damon, this is kind of- I mean, it's important, like, really important, and, er, I just need to talk to you, okay? he glanced around him. - Is Suzi home?

\- She's at her parents with Missy, he said flatly, a bit removed, it seemed, from where he was then.

\- Can I- can I come in?

He blinked quickly in succession as though he were trying to summon something, then dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. - Eh- yeah. R-right, c'mon in, and he stepped out of the doorway. Graham went around him and into the house. He immediately noticed two things, that being that it was a touch colder than usual, and all the lights were out. Damon followed him wordlessly and closed the door behind them.

\- I see you've gotten the piano set up, he pointed lamely into the living room.

\- Yeah, sorry, he murmured. - I- I'm sure you could hear the damn thing, er-

\- That's actually why- uh, that's not, mainly, er, why I came, but, uh... he closed his eyes. - Can we sit down, maybe, or, you know, wherever.

\- Living room, he opened his arms up into the next room. Graham nodded rapidly and continued on. - Just take that couch, he gestured loosely at the blue corduroy couch slumped beneath the window. The light from said window was the only thing illuminating the otherwise blackened scene.

Once he was settled in, Damon sat down carefully in an armchair across from him. His hands were folded curtly, arms pressed against his sides, legs crossed. If this were a business transaction Graham would already have begun to lose.

\- Oh- sorry, crap, do you need like a drink or something? he asked suddenly.

\- No, I'm good, he swallowed. - I'm good.

\- Okay, er... he trailed off, looking around the room, visibly off-put. - So, uh...what is it you wanted to talk to me about?

Graham felt his chest seize up. He couldn't do this he couldn't do this he couldn't do this... - I needed to ask you...um...if you've been... he took a sharp breath, cutting into his lungs unexpectedly and causing him to descend into a coughing fit.

\- Are you-

\- I'm fine, he wheezed out.

\- Are you sure you don't want water? Beer?

\- No, really, he said as emphatically as he could. - It's all good.

\- Okay, he nibbled on his finger, still holding himself somewhat uneasily.

After a few moments and he found he had some what sufficiently recollected his air, he started again. - Damon, he began. - I- I don't really know how to put this, so I'm just going to say it all at once, and you're going to think it's weird, and think I'm weird, and you're probably kick me out of your house and never want to see me again, but-

\- The flashbacks, he said, finally lifting his head.

\- I... Graham stared at him in amazement. - Wait, are we talking about the same thing? The slips in time? You get them too?

He nodded. - I just-

\- Oh my God! You've- they've been happening to you too this whole time and you haven't said a word-

\- You haven't either, he pointed out rather annoyedly.

\- Well, I...fair point, he shook his head. - Christ, I just...I mean, I thought I've been losing it this past week.

Damon had his head down again. He frowned, watching him, vaguely confused.

\- Er...Damon? Are you okay?

He still said nothing, but then Graham heard faint sniffling, and saw his shoulders trembling, and realized horribly and all at once that he was crying.

\- Oh, was really all he could say.

\- S-sorry, Damon managed through a choked-up throat. He was pinching his tear ducts and breathing sort of raggedly.

\- What...what is it? he asked rather idiotically, because he knew full well why Damon was crying.

\- God, Graham, he gasped. - I- I just... he wasn't really able to manage much more than that before collapsing again, and Graham could see how hard he was trying just to keep himself stitched up, he could see the strings coming undone. He looked more tired and weak than Graham himself, which he thought was saying something. Arguably most confusing of all was the reaction he had- typically when people displayed themselves as vulnerably as this to him he had a tendency to become severely uncomfortable and just sort of leave them wherever they were, but this was barely the case now. As he watched Damon, supposedly only his neighbor, only a man he'd known for a week, breaking down like this, he had the worst instinct pull in his gut to want to do everything he could to make it better.

\- Should I- and before he really realized what he was doing, he stood up and went to kneel in front of Damon, grasp his hands. He had absolutely no idea what he could even say. Damon clearly didn't either; he was still dissolved in tears, weeping then into Graham's shoulder, pulled into an odd half-hug.

Graham couldn't even describe the feeling he got, holding and touching Damon like this. It was everything he had thought it to be, because he was beginning to think maybe that the feeling he had was remembrance, his hands reaching across a solid, warm expanse of back that was so fucking familiar that he felt his head begin to spin again. But it couldn't be familiar, one part of him whined. He'd only so much as shaken Damon's hand before. So why did he think- nay, why was he so so so sure- that this had happened before, so many times over?

Maybe because it had.

\- Damon, I'm confused, he was still stupid with all this unknown emotion clouding his brain. The other man was still only crying, so he continued. - And I- I can't shake the feeling that we've done this before.

\- Done what? he sniffled. He had strung himself up, and Graham was then on his knees between Damon's open ones, their hands, sweaty, entwined in one another, and they were staring straight ahead into each other's eyes like jackals about to rip into a carcass. That was exactly what it was. Damon's eyes were sad, and they were terrifying. He was an animal, not human, he couldn't be, how else could he have done this to Graham? He'd turned him into this rotten shaky mess of something less than man, and he then stumbled back a bit, falling on to his elbows.

\- I- I'm sorry. I can't do this. I can't- this is too much. I'm sorry.

\- Can't do what? Damon shouted desperately. - Christ, Graham, why can't you give me an honest answer to anything? You keep running away from me; we can't, we can't fucking run away from this, okay? There's no escaping this... he stood up, to stand over Graham, and he started crawling backwards like a crab, if not just to escape it all. Damon continued yelling at him, and then he was up on his feet and running out the door, escaping, while Damon kept telling him he couldn't, and he wanted to laugh in his fucking face, look at me running away, you ass, look at me going into my own house and slamming the door on you.

There was something broken inside of him. A pipe, probably. The dreams and hallucinations had to be caused by that, then, a leaky pipe dripping all over his brain and soaking it in bad mojo juice. It was really only the explanation he could summon as to why he was so goddamn awful like this.

He wanted Damon to hold him and tell him it was all going to be okay, and at the same time he was here, having run away and slammed the door on him.

Perhaps he was insane. Or they were, and he was the only sane one.

What kind of God would do this to me? he thought.

\- Dad? and there was Pepper, on the horizon of his awareness. He acknowledged her anxiety-laden voice with the same dejected resignation he always had. She was the unavoidable, and wHolly real in a way that he did not much feel.

\- What, he called up the steps.

\- The door slammed, she said slowly. - Is everything all right?

\- Everything's fine, he affirmed.

That was the worst lie he'd ever told.

There had to have been a part of Damon that had expected everything panning out like this; it turning out that Graham, too, had the flashbacks, and him confronting him about them, and their tearful embrace, but he hadn't...quite...expected it to end the way that it did. Graham scuttling out of his house on crouched legs and elbows like a madman, that is. That was not expected.

But really, Graham had never handled these types of situations well. And how did he know that? The flashbacks. They had given him everything there was to know about Graham, but they couldn't give him Graham.

It just wasn't fair, the more he thought about it, what with Graham actually knowing what he did and still acting the neurotic shit he was, evading his every extension of affections. He knew that it wasn't that Graham didn't love him, too- there was no way in hell that wasn't true- so why was he doing this?

He wanted badly to blame it on that bitch wife Holly, but that was hardly fair either. She hadn't done anything but unwittingly obstruct true love.

He wanted also to blame it on his own wife, but that was very, very, very not fair, because he loved her, too.

It had hurt him, physically, the moment he'd realized he loved Graham more than her. It really had. He may have been coming off as cold, but he honestly did love her. Just not as much as Graham. Was that cold? It wasn't fair, he'd give it that.

It wasn't fair to Missy, most of all. She didn't deserve to be in the middle of anything he got into, lest of all a divorce.

Divorce.

Was that really the word he had thought?

He collapsed back on to the couch from where he was standing, and buried his face in his hands again. He wasn't so much crying anymore as he was just exasperatedly sighing. With maybe a bead of sweat or two rolling from his eyes down. That was besides the point. The point was that he'd finally had the big dramatic moment he'd been waiting for with Graham, the one where he'd pretty much expected him to run into Damon's arms, swooning in love, and instead he'd run out the door. And now he was too scared of Holly to go over there.

So much for romance.

He took a deep breath, focusing intrinsically for a moment, until he could feel his heartbeat steadying again, and went back to thinking of everything awful in the real world. Suzi had taken Missy straight to her parent's house after school. He was not invited, and it was still unclear whether or not they were coming home that night.

The stupid fight with Suzi had been a culmination of tense unvoiced feelings over the past few weeks concerning their move from his childhood home to the suburbs, that then snowballing with his own, admittedly, chilly demeanor towards her following his aforementioned realization of faded love, and then finding a catalyst in Missy's arrest that had finally all exploded into a nasty bruise of a screaming match that same morning.

He remembered when they had been something refreshing. When he was 27 and good looking and they had met in a bar and she had been this lovely, down-to-earth woman in the seat beside him, with something also intriguing and slightly naughty, her dark eyes full over the top of her glass as she smirked at him. That had been exciting. Months later she was exhausting, and then there was the Time They Did Not Talk About, and then they were together again and Missy happened. Somewhere along that line of events the brightness on the edges of their togetherness had dulled, and now they were here.

Graham had not helped any of this.

He couldn't even begin to describe Graham. He subverted every preconceived notion he had about him at first; at first he'd been the sort of withdrawn, pale stalk of a man he expected to see attached to the hip of a woman like Holly, as insensitive as it sounded. But there was something about him that gradually revealed itself over time, unfolding slowly and unsurely- his quick smiles, his passion for music, the helpless laughter he hid behind his hands and hair. Maybe not quite as depressed as one might think at a first glance. More understatedly beautiful than anything, and Damon had found his way of perpetually looking like he was crying just to be his sort of style.

Speaking of crying, he thought, I probably look a right mess right now. He made his way to the bathroom to confirm his sentiments, greeted in the mirror with a rather slovenly and pathetic imitation of his usual self, a sallow face with red eyes. As if his actions hadn't been enough to scare Graham away, he looked like a literal hobo. Perfect. He grabbed a comb off the sink and ran it through his hair in a halfhearted attempt to make himself presentable, and dabbed cold water on to the bags beneath his eyes.

He needed to see Graham again.

He had meant it more than anything he ever had in his life when he told him that they couldn't run from this anymore. That was undeniably what they had been doing, of course. For the past week it had seemed like the only thing there was to do. But there had to be answer, somewhere. There had to be more than stolen glances and dreams buried in the subconscious. There had to be more than forgetting.

Ironically, Graham had run from him when he'd said all that, but as he'd conceded earlier, that was just his thing. Running.

So he went to the window of their bedroom, the one that faced the window in Graham's house, and when he pulled the curtains back he could sometimes see him, milling about, and he would cripple himself with more yearning for a life with him- ignoring all that for a moment, he was at the window, and saw no Graham, but did see the bitch wife Holly's car pulling into their driveway.

Crap. There was no way he could go over now. Not only the whole "I love you" bit of it, but that she absolutely fucking abhorred Suzi and Missy and therefore him. It was a rather recent development, mostly concentrated during last night when Missy may or may not have gotten her daughter arrested, but it was a pretty seemingly steadfast grudge, and Damon just knew that she was one of those people who could hold it for years if she felt the need to.

Holly's car stopped. He watched the door swing open, her in tight Lycra exercise clothes, a scowl so potent he could feel it's deadening glare even from here, and her heavy steps up to the house and the sound of another door opening and slamming.

Crap.

No way in hell he could go over now.


	6. Chapter 6

It was immature and terribly, terribly embarrassing to admit, but he had pretty much straight up been ignoring Damon for nearly two weeks. It was less hard, of course, with Holly endorsing it, in her continued crusade against the neighbor family and their apparently godless existence. It was also less hard with her barely around lately. She was always off at some new class or another. It was odd, her having all these classes, and it leaned on their bank account quite noticeably, but she had seemed happier than lately, and often met him with a smile when she came home, so he had kept his mouth shut. A happy Holly ensured a happy home.

Pepper had been in unusually high spirits as well, which he wholly attributed to her still hanging out with Missy, but that was still something he pretended not to know, for her sake. She hadn't been in any situation with the other girl that required Graham to be around Damon, so there really wasn't much to object to.

Damon had very clearly tried to talk to him in the past two weeks. Of course. He had been hanging around outside Graham's work building during lunch hours, like a pervert, so he'd begun bringing in tinfoiled sandwiches instead of doing his usual dash down to the gas station.

His supposed revelation earlier had proven itself to be something he couldn't handle physically, emotionally, or mentally, so he'd found it was really just best to not even think about Damon.

Unfortunately, his subconscious brain had been having quite a different idea than that one, as evidenced by the nearly-nightly dreams he'd been having about him, all of which were so awful that he couldn't even begin to note them in the barest detail. Holly hadn't noticed them- if she had, she was doing a fine job keeping that information to herself, and he hoped she would continue the trend.

Everything in that part of his life was just such a fucking mess that he couldn't really bring himself to face any of it.

And sometimes he had thought that it might just have been better if he died. Dead people don't love; problems solved, right?

This was the stage set out for when Damon called him, the first Thursday in April. His phone had started jumping in his pocket with half an hour left in the work day, and he'd answered it without much thought or even so little as a glance at the caller ID.

\- Hello, a voice began nervously. The same voice on the audio books. The same voice in his dreams. His stomach turned.

\- Er...Damon, he said flatly. - H-hello.

\- I need to see you.

Graham swallowed. - Quite forward.

\- Graham.

He looked around his office quickly, seeing no one, but still cupping his hand over the speaker of his phone and leaning in a bit, as to hiss a strangled reply, - What do you want?

\- You know what I want.

\- Don't say it like that.

\- Like what?

\- Like that, Damon. Crikey.

\- You're being unreasonable.

\- I'm- he huffed. - I'm the one being unreasonable?!

\- Ignoring me for two weeks? Yeah, I'd call that unreasonable-

\- Look, he interrupted. - I'm not getting into this over the phone.

\- So what? We'll do it in person? Won't you just run away again?

\- No, he said, amazed that they were both pretty annoyed already. - I won't- I won't run away.

\- Can we meet tomorrow?

\- Er... he slammed his forehead into his palm a bit, glancing at the big calendar filling his whole desk, finding the next day's box. It was empty. He sighed. - Yeah, tomorrow should work for me. During lunch.

\- Yeah, you've seemed busy during lunch the past two weeks.

\- You're fucking insane, he spat, and it came out meaner than he meant it to. Damon was seemingly taken aback for a moment, judging from the static silence he was greeted with, before there was a harsh laugh.

\- Funny, he said cheerfully.

Graham didn't really know what to say then. He bounced his knee beneath his desk. - Damon, I have to go now, he closed his eyes. - I'll see you tomorrow at 1, okay?

\- Okay.

\- Okay, he lowered his phone from his face, and could've sworn he heard Damon start to say something else, but he had already pressed the red end button and that was it.

There was an impatient tapping behind him. - Personal calls durin' company time, Coxon?

\- Sorry, he unfurled his neck, keeping his gaze trained on his black computer screen. The way that it was angled, he could see Wendy's small and distorted figure rising out, reflected from the doorway. - You sure do have a way with timing, he tried to joke sort of lamely, but judging from her still-crossed arms and bent head, he could see it was a dangerous misreading of the situation on his part. Idiot, he thought. I am a fucking idiot.

\- If we hae anither incident loch thes again, dinnae hink ah will hesitate tae brin' thes tae th' attentions ay mah superiors, she warned. - Ye see thes office as yer haem. Mah advice? See it as yer office.

"Of course."

She pointed at him, in the screen, with a finger of mighty power and will, then disappeared.

He watched her leave and stuck his tongue out.

A crisp October afternoon, the best kind. Damon had come 'round that morning and picked him up- he hated thinking of it like that, actually, because it made Damon seem more adult to him in some way. Either way, he had claimed to have 'lotsa stuff' to show him, hence the early hour he'd arrived on his doorstep, bike on the lawn, grinning magnificently. He was like a puppy around him. Always so stupidly happy that they were together. 'And we're never not gon' be together, you know that, Grem...' he'd say. Something like that. It kind of made Graham blush to think about those things, but that was besides the point.

They'd started the day off at the Aldham Parish Church. Damon was allowed to go up there Saturday mornings and play the organ- his mum had arranged it or something, for there to be no people there so he could practice. Another difference between them. Graham loved music and playing it just as much as Damon but he would never have his mum pull strings at a frickin' church to get him solitary practice time. He was perfectly content to hole up in his little bedroom and play with his crap amp, but that was him, certainly, not Damon.

He'd played him some classical songs, the sort of stuff that honestly kind of bored Graham, but sitting on the organ bench elbow-to-elbow with a thoughtful and quiet Damon, underneath the massive sound of the organ pipes, seeming to swell and bounce through the room, the pieces had a redeeming quality to them. He didn't much understand Damon's obsession with the genre, but it was kind of endearing. Many things were with him. Even so, Graham did finally request that he play something from the 20th century, which was met with a bit of a grumble but a new song nonetheless, a sort of stupid track they'd written together called Intermission. 'Intermission in what?' Graham had asked when Damon named it. 'Like in a play?' Damon still hadn't answered him. Whatever, right?

After that they had just kind of biked around and stuff in the village, talking like they usually did. Recently Damon's distaste for Colchester had begun to manifest itself even more prominently, something along the lines of the town being full of 'uptight white Anglo-Saxon horse shite' and what Graham knew to be his anger at their classmates calling them both faggots. 'They're all jus' so fuckin' stupid. You know? I hate them all,' he'd mutter between his teeth as they'd poke around between headstones in an old graveyard. Graham never knew what to say then. 'Sorry' didn't seem appropriate. He normally settled on saying nothing. Not that Damon would pay that much attention; he wasn't inconsiderate of Graham's feelings, but he did talk an awful lot, and that usually dominated their conversations. He didn't mind. Damon was a relieving presence. That relief was stretched on days like this, of course, as he dragged them literally all over on what seemed to be random whims.

"So where are we going now?"

This was where they were, present time, in the crisp October afternoon. Both of them had their bikes' kickstands out in an alleyway.

"Fiddler's Wood," he'd replied definitively.

"Why? What's there?"

"Somefink I've wanted to show ya for awhile."

The sky was blue. Graham looked up to it, chewing his lip. "Is it cool?"

"Course it's cool," Damon scoffed. "C'mon!" he laughed, realigning his bike wheels with the pavement and pushing off out of the alleyway. Graham followed him wordlessly, breathlessly, because he was still much less athletic than Damon, who really wasn't even that athletic. Although that wasn't all true- Damon did bike everywhere, and claimed that even when he was 17 and allowed to drive he would ride his bike instead. But that was still three years away, so Graham wasn't so sure. Anyways, they cycled for quite some time and finally came to the edge of this big field, with forest lining it, which Damon promptly identified as 'Fiddler's Woods.' He then started rambling about the actual magic it possessed in it, faeries, demons, the like. Graham half-listened, and they circled 'round the side and to a small footpath at which point Damon hopped off his bike and told Graham to, as well.

"We continue on foot," he explained. "Because we respect the woods."

"Oh," Graham said. That was the sort of spiritual mumbo-jumbo Damon could spout sometimes that he didn't quite find to be all that true, but it was once again no matter at all. He set his bike up next to Damon's and they started off down the trail together, hip-to-hip. Damon excitedly pointed out every bit of nature he knew the name of, an impressive amount, truly, considering how poorly he did in actual school, and Graham hadn't really thought memorization to be his forte. Still, he would crouch down at every bend in the footpath for a leaf with a cool design, clamber up the odd tree, flip a moss-eaten rock over and name every bug underneath. He was definitely never like this at actual school.

"Well, no," he scratched his head. "I'd get the shit kicked out o' me if I talked 'bout this stuff, right?"

"Not necessarily."

"Yeah, I would."

Graham thought for a moment. "Damon, you get beat up all the time anyways. Why would expressing your interest in nature affect that either way?"

"I'm not 'interested in nature', okay?" he slammed his foot into a pod of soft mushrooms, beheading them, as if to drive the point home. "I jus'...we're here for this one thing, the thing I'm 'interested' in, I- I guess, er...it's not a nature thing. I mean it is, but not like that."

"What is it?"

In the clear autumn light, filtered between dead leaves, Damon's face was a bright red. "It's kinda weird."

"Well, you brought me all this way to see it!" he exclaimed. "Just tell me what it is?"

"It's better to show you."

"Are we close to it?"

He nodded exaggeratedly. Well- he always seemed to nod exaggeratedly. Everything he did seemed ridiculously exaggerated. This was, as Graham had decided, because he was less like a real person and more like a caricature done of a real person. No actual 14-year-old was like this anywhere else in the world. They couldn't be. Damon was at once the most infuriating and fascinating thing in Graham's life, and he doubted any other boring old kid could quite achieve that perfect mix of personality traits to elicit feelings as such. Graham watched him, thinking about all that he meant to him, as he took off the trail and gestured once again for Graham to follow. He carefully stepped over a rash of spiny bushes and did.

"Right 'ere," Damon announced, establishing footing in the weeds. His head was turned up to stare with a slight smile at a big tree. Graham came to stand beside him. He couldn't see he understood what they were looking at, or why Damon seemed so overjoyed to be in its presence.

"What is it?"

"It's a tree, Grem."

He rolled his eyes. "I know that it's a tree. I'm asking why we're here looking at it."

"It's a special tree," he said quietly, the smile creeping even farther across his face. Then he looked back down at Graham, dropping it quickly, "Er- it's, uh, I told you, it sounds weird. I can't really explain it," he swallowed. "I've never shown anyone before."

"Oh," Graham was chewing his lip again. He could feel Damon's eyes boring into him. "What makes it special?"

"I told you, I can't-"

"What makes it special to you?" he clarified.

Damon stared at him oddly. "I bury stuff beneath it," then he stepped back, kicking with his foot to signify squarish upturned patches of dirt and grass.

"Like...what?"

He shrugged. "Iono. Stuff I find. Mementos, er..." his neck was craned back again, as to note the triangular arrangement of the black tree outlines. Maybe not triangular; pentangular. "I jus' feel sorta, like, if I save all these things out here, it's almost like they're...removed from time itself. And so in a bit of a way it's like a little bit of us will always live on. Do ya get what I'm talkin' 'bout?"

Graham quirked a smile. "Us?"

Damon turned an even more violent shade of beet. It was perplexing- usually Damon was the older, the more put-together of the two, and Graham was the kid who dissolved in embarrassment at every given chance. But now he was the one with power, perhaps only calm in the face of something he didn't understand but Damon did. How was he to know, already, what the other boy really felt about him?

"Yeah," Damon said. "Us."

To answer the previous question, at the age of 13 Graham wasn't necessarily naive to the realities of love, but that wasn't to say he had the emotion capabilities of handling what they entailed. Currently, they were inside the look that Damon was giving him, and it seemed that the tables were flipped to their regular positions, as Graham felt horribly uncomfortable again in the face of what Damon truly wanted between them, which was eternity.

"W-why?" he asked.

"Why?" Damon repeated. After a deep thought, seemingly lost in the pentangular trees, he spoke, this time more carefully, his words more drawn out. "Because I love you, Graham Coxon."

They stared at each other. Damon had his lower jaw stuck out. Graham felt at a loss for something he didn't know he had.

"Oh," he said, stupidly.

Damon did nothing but nod.

"Er...I didn't- I thought-"

"I love you like a brother, right, Gra?" he continued. "It's not...it's not like that. I love you like the brother I never had."

"Oh," Graham said again. "Yeah, uh...that makes more sense."

Damon was still staring at him. His shoulders were slumped, eyes flat, glassy like a doll's.

"Brothers forever, okay?" he asked Graham that like he needed an answer desperately, as if the lack of it physically pained him. As if he was afraid that Graham might say no.

"Of course," Graham insisted with as much earnestness as he could muster. He really did mean it. Because even at the age of 13, he knew that he loved Damon too.

"Alright," Damon said, still clenching his jaw, still nodding curtly. "Okay. Good."

"Was this all you wanted to show me?"

"Hmm?" he snapped out of something. "Oh- yeah," he took a deep breath, and seemed to hold it. "Yeah, er...let's go."

"Thank you, Day."

"It's nothin'," he shook his head. "Seriously, it's jus'-" he sighed, and rested his hand lightly on Graham's shoulder. "Let's jus' go."

Graham only realized he had been dreaming when he came to, and he fell through the forest to his bed, where Damon's touch turned into the sheet bunched up around his arm. He forced himself to his elbows sort of groggily, blinking his eyes rapidly and trying to focus darkness from the smudge of red light on his night stand, then remembering that as he was, in fact, in bed, his glasses absent, and groped for them on said night stand. Once they were over his eyes the red light focused itself into a set of numbers and letters. 3:12 am. He groaned and fell back.

\- Graham? Holly's voice suddenly cut through. She sounded eerily put-together, as if she had not just been roused from deep sleep.

\- Christ, he shivered into himself. - Sorry, did I wake you up?

There were a few seconds of silence, and she admitted quite uneasily, - No. No, I've just been- are you all right, honey? Did you have another nightmare?

Sure, if that's what she wanted to call it. If she would have seen it, would she have called it a nightmare? Him dreaming of another?

\- It was nothing, he lied. - Sorry for disturbing you.

\- It's nothing... she murmured, the blankets around him jerked left as she turned back over. His heart stopped momentarily- Damon had just said that, hadn't he? 'It's nothing.' Good God, Graham couldn't handle these sorts of parallels. It was sickening.

\- All right, well... he swallowed. - Good night, again, and he carefully removed his glasses, folding them and replacing them in front of the digital clock. He curled back on to his side, closing his eyes, and tried to get his brain to take him away again.

It was easy, seeing Damon in his dreams, or the memory-not-memories. The latter were more vivid and usually felt more realistic, even though sometimes a dream like the one he'd just had would absolutely knock it out of the park in terms of attention to detail, but it barely mattered, as he rarely even had memory-not-memories anymore. Of course he wouldn't. He rarely even saw Damon. It was only in these nightly dreams did he come to him; he was never as he was now, always younger, and most of the time just a kid. They were comforting, in a way, though. In those dreams he felt weightless, like there was absolutely nothing in the real world that could touch either of them.

There were the unmentionable dreams, too, though, the ones where he had to pray to God he'd wake up in time to dash to the bathroom and try to get rid of whatever dream-Damon had given him. He wasn't going to say he hated those, but when you're less than a foot away in bed from your wife, they were...cumbersome.

There were certainly bad ones, too, though. The ones where he was on the ledge. The ones where he was bathed in blood, shards of glass, and Damon was crying. The ones where he was in rehab, and Damon was angry with him, and it was just a series of doors that he kept slamming on him, and he was alone again. The ones where he had hurt Damon, and Damon had hurt him.

Those dreams still weren't as hard to shake as the ones where they were in love.

It was awful; all the pain of being with him still didn't even measure up to the pain of being without him.

He supposed that was the way it went.

Feeling like dying day in, day out, because you were so scared of yourself and what might happen if you faced that.

But he didn't have a choice, today. He'd already told Damon he'd have lunch with him. What had happened the last time he'd seen him? He'd run away. What had happened the last time they'd had lunch together? He'd run away. And now he had the even worse benefit of knowing that virtually every memory-not-memory, and maybe even dream, he'd had about the two of them together, Damon had most likely had, too.

He wasn't ready for this.

But would he ever be?

Maybe it was just best if he sucked it all up and did it...it. It? What was that? Confessing his feelings for Damon? Leaving his wife?

He couldn't leave Holly. She would never let him. She would drag him to the ends of the Earth before she let him humiliate her like that. Besides, he would never do that to Pepper. He'd already thought this all through. It was impossible.

He flipped over on to his stomach and turned his thoughts to sleep. Maybe once that came, things would work themselves out. When he woke up, he'd feel better. When you wake up, you'll feel better. Christ in hell, that was one of his and Damon's songs, wasn't it? Yes, Ultranol is the new remedy... Right. Of course. He couldn't even find solace from the terrifying echoes of their life together at three in the morning.

When you wake up you'll feel better.

Nine hours later he was sitting on a park bench, waiting for the man himself. They hadn't really agreed on any place to meet up, but as Graham figured, Damon would probably find him wherever he was. So he was here. A bruised and battered park bench that wasn't even in a park. It was on a little patch of grass to the side of two busy intersections, not quite a lengthy walk from his office building, not often visited by many. It was mostly seen as a prime spot for those with a death wish, as anyone who could find leisure in a place near wild drivers surely had one of those.

He glanced down at his watch and recrossed his legs. The bench was underneath an oak tree, and when he tilted his neck he could see two squirrels, way, way up in the branches, at first appearing to be in duel over an acorn but upon closer inspection and more squinting just scrabbling with each other for no other reason than that they felt like it. When he was in college him and some of the other art students would go out and sketch nature scenes like that; animals behaving humanly, or like whatever humans designated to be "humanly." For the first time in years he ached for his sketchbook, a feeling he thought he'd forgotten after this graphic design job had seemingly beat it all out of him.

\- Hey, and someone he nearly instantaneously identified as Damon had walked up, appeared in the frame, tugging on his sleeves uncomfortably. When Graham looked down he saw a man who had not slept in days. He was unshaven and wearing a heavy black parka despite the temperate weather. His brow was furrowed even deeper than usual, as if with thoughts so unsettling that they had sunken into his face.

\- Damon, he smiled. This seemed to surprise the other man.

\- May I- uh, may I- he gestured vaguely to the bench, and Graham nodded, scooting over a little bit. Damon plunked down next to him. From the way his shoulders hung over his torso, folded concavely, he would've guessed him to be a new Atlas.

\- I've missed you, he said quietly. He was staring straight down, into the fitful blotches of grass spread beneath them, nudging the toe of his trainer into the dirt. Graham didn't want to say "I've missed you, too" as it was a fairly unimaginative thing to say right then and it wasn't entirely true, as he felt like he had seen Damon every day. He knew that wasn't really true. But it felt like it. And, besides the point, the whole situation was partially his dault, what with running out on Damon and ignoring him like that.

So he finally settled on, - I'm sorry.

\- I know that you are.

\- I just...

\- Yeah, he sighed, heaving his shoulders. - It's always one thing or another, innit?

\- Are you mad at me, still? he asked tentatively.

Damon turned his head a fraction, to look at him with a sad smile. - I was never mad at you, Gra.

Gra. He might as well have just ripped his heart out, it had the same effect. It was a stupid fucking reminder of the dreams where they were together, and a stupid fucking reminder that they weren't together in real life. They didn't get to call each other nicknames, like they'd known each other for years and had a cute back-and-forth as a result. They were strangers. They didn't get-

Graham buried his face in his hands, groaning. - I can't do this...

\- Graham?

\- I had another dream last night, he started, then restarted, shaking his head. - I've had dreams every night for the past two weeks. But, I had a dream last night, and we were kids. 13 and 14. In Colchester together. Just hanging out...it was, it was lovely, you know?

Damon was making a face.

\- What is it? he asked.

\- Well, Graham, that's mostly why I've- I've needed to talk to you- I mean not totally why, just one of the parts, but- those, those dreams where you kill yourself, and the ones with the alcohol-

\- You don't need to go into it anymore, Graham held his hand up, muttering weakly.

\- They're fucking...worrying, okay?"

\- Those aren't, those aren't real, though, right? he asked, genuinely. Damon just kept chewing his lip. He sighed. - Okay, I guess that's not totally fair, saying they're not real. They have...I mean, you they're worrying, how do you think I feel about them?

\- Well, I've wanted to know! he was becoming more animated as he spoke, but it was puppetry done by pure anger, no matter what he told Graham. It wasn't like he didn't have any right not to- be angry, that was- but it made Graham want to disappear into himself even more. - I need more than just "sorry" and "I don't know" from you. I don't even care if you want to just tell me to fuck off, I just... he leaned back, palms flat against his thighs.

\- Damon, I love you.

He said that faster than he intended, but he was worried all the air in his body might leave him randomly and he would collapse without getting to say that one thing. Damon was then staring at him like he had food condiment on his face, and he was at once relieved that he had gotten that out and horrified that it was the wrong thing to get out. He fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably as, in that second, his brain disappeared down a swirling black whirlpool of self-doubt and fear: Damon didn't not love him, did he? Oh, Christ, he could've been wrong this whole time. He just made himself look like the biggest fucking idiot in the world. Damon wanted answers because he wanted to rid himself of these godawful lovely memory-not-memories and dreams. Bloody hell, what had he just done-

Damon interrupted all these thoughts when his mouth crashed against Graham's, and he couldn't really do much of anything, then. It was like time had stopped, and his breath was frozen in his chest, and the only thing alive in him were their impact points, chapped lips and coarse hands and clothed knees colliding, like two stars, but there was so much more than that, too; it was when Damon pulled away that he was smacked in the brain with a memory of every kiss they'd ever shared, because, by God, they weren't memory-not-memories, they really were just plain old memories.

Looking into Damon's eyes, the somewhat shimmering, placid and simultaneously turbulent shade of electricity that they were, he remembered everything all at once, an entire lifetime crashing in slow-motion atop him.

\- I love you, Damon said, just as he had said across worlds and eons, because that was how vast and infinite Graham could see their love to be, for that split second. He found himself to be smiling again, the first unencumbered smile he had experienced in a long, long time. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No more Atlas.

\- I want to kiss you again and for a lot longer, he managed to speak finally, stupidly.

Damon gripped his hand. - Isn't your lunch break ending soon? We can see each other again tomorrow, right?

Graham shook his head violently. - No. No work, no tomorrow, I want you, he grabbed Damon's hand back, hard. - Right now. I need you, right now.

\- Graham, are you-

\- We can get a hotel room. There's one down the street.

\- Graham, he was kind of laughing. Kind of. - Chill out for a moment.

But Graham didn't want to "chill out." He stood up and pulled Damon with him. He kissed him back, hard, and everything was okay again. Damon laughed between their mouths.

\- Alright, I... he struggled to physically detach Graham from him. - I'm beginning to see what you're getting at.

\- We need to make up for lost time, Graham rested his hands on his shoulders; he remembered every inch of his fucking skin, he needed to see it again, feel it with his fingertips, his tongue, reclaim his territory.

\- We can't bang each other in front of two motorways' worth of cars and people...

\- Says who?

\- I enjoy your hotel idea.

He was already formulating a plan in his head. They would take Damon's car, so that he didn't have to go back to work- oh, wait, unless he went there and claimed a family emergency, then he'd have an excuse and his wallet and his car. Then they would go in his car to the Hampton- no, the Premier Inn on the other side of town, where they would never run into Holly or anyone else from their neighborhood. They'd be done by the time he would realistically be getting off work- in case they weren't, he grinned like a madman, what if they weren't done by then? He'd call Holly, feign a work emergency. Foolproof.

He explained said foolproof plan to Damon as they walked back down to his office building. Damon agreed to wait in Graham's car while he went and talked to Wendy. Or whoever else he might see before her. The latter was his biggest wish, of course, because right then when he was really horny and a bit emotionally raw the last thing he could handle was even experiencing the barest of interactions with her.

He resisted the urge to tackle Damon again before he went into the building. He didn't see himself as a very sexual guy, in any sense of the word, but after Damon had kissed him it was like this primal tap inside of him had been loosened. Like something had been released. Possibly his gayness; although he was firmly not focusing on the "gay" aspect of all this, even if it was, technically, gay, he was focusing on "I am a person and Damon is a person and we are in love and we both happen to be male and in unhappy heterosexual marriages." That sounded better. Well, it sounded like the intro to a gay porno, but was that all that bad? Wasn't it, though? God, he didn't know anymore.

So he focused on everything he could control. Dashing up the stairs two at a time, he bumped shoulders with one of his coworkers. A bloke named Daniels from the marketing department that was sometimes invited to their larger dinner parties. He was not unpleasant, but he was incredibly nosy, and his wife was good friends with Holly. So really, he was the worst person (excluding Wendy) he could've run into.

\- Hey! Daniels clapped him on the back, one step below him. - How you doing? Wow, it's been a while since we caught up! he laughed like a donkey. Graham furrowed his brow and forced an amicable expression. - I mean, we work in the same building and I think I've seen you more at your own house than here! he really started guffawing.

\- Ha, Graham said. - Ha, ha.

\- So, you just heading up?

Well, duh, he thought.

\- Er. Yeah.

Daniels nodded, still uncomfortably touching him. He was going to physically explode if he didn't get out of this stairwell soon.

\- Well...tell the wife I say hi, he spoke emphatically. - You all should come to our house for dinner soon.

\- Oh, yes, Graham lied.

\- That'd be great, wouldn't it?

\- Uh huh.

He nodded and did a back-clap one last time before bidding Graham farewell and continuing down the stairs. He waited until he had gone out the door before he sighed tremendously and continued up to the third floor where his office was. Where Wendy was. He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand and mentally prepared himself for the worst of whatever she was about to dish out; it was still his lunch break, so at least she couldn't bitch about him "stealing company time" or whatever.

Her office was at the very end of the hallway. It radiated a very certain kind of fairy tale-esque evil witch castle, like you were descending into darkness as you pitched on along. People looked up from their computers to stare at him beguilingly, like, "You're really gonna do that?" He kept his head up and balled his fists. Then he remembered he was supposed to be coming with news of a family emergency, and quickly adjusted his demeanor to jaded stoicism.

He rapped on her open door, once, twice. She caught his eye, scowled, and waved him in.

\- Whit is it, Coxon? she dead panned. - Arenae ye still oan break? Ah thooght ye loo'd stealin' as much time frae th' company as possible.

Bingo, he thought. Totally called it.

\- I'm afraid I'm going to have to take the rest of the day off work, he said with as much composure as he could muster.

She shifted from a scowl to a straight-dead glare, eyes piercing through him like spears. - An' wa would ye dae 'at?

\- A family emergency has come up that I must attend to.

\- A family emergency?

\- Yes, he said simply.

She didn't look like she was buying any of it. - Whit kin' ay family emergency?

\- I'd rather not say, and that was the best thing to say, when lying about where you would be: "family emergency" paired with "I'd rather not say." Now Wendy would come off like a prying douche if she asked him any more questions. He had her beat.

\- Weel, she said gruffly. - Ah'm very sorry fur yer family emergency. Best wishes, yoo're dismissed fur th' day.

He thanked her profusely, to which she just waved him away some more. He wasn't protesting, either. He couldn't have run out of that whole building to Damon fast enough. He thanked the Powers That Be, while he was at it, blessing him with an absence of any coworkers asking questions or being generally asinine. It was smooth sailing from here, starting as soon as he slid into the driver's seat of the car and Damon greeted him with a sloppy kiss.

\- I can just do that, he said, wonderstruck. - I can just kiss you like that.

\- Of course, Graham said as he started the car. - That's what couples do.

\- Oh, couples now, is it? he grinned madly. - I thought it was "I'm not talking to you, Damon..."

Pavement hit his car's wheels, and he felt another breath of relief leave him. They were free. If not just for this afternoon. Then he registered what Damon had said and turned to glare at him.

\- Ha fucking ha, Dames. Yeah. Couples. Why not? he looked between the road and Damon. - I feel like we've been dating since I was 11, regardless.

\- That's so fucking weird.

\- What is?

He drummed his fingers on the dashboard kind of absentmindedly, thinking deeply again. - Well...that we've really known each other that long. Even though we really haven't- pat-tap-pat-tap-pat, his index and thumb on either hand went- but we have, in a way. In another life, and he puffed out his cheeks. - If that's really what it all is.

\- Another life?

\- Maybe.

\- Are those a thing?

\- What do you mean, "Are those a thing?" Of course they're a thing. Don't you believe in magic?

\- No. I mean, maybe... he trailed off, glancing out the side window, at the beige buildings and the empty lots and the power lines and all of it, all the mundane little details, and he thought very genuinely about whatever feeling had rushed back to him when he had kissed Damon. Feeling? It had been a whole life. He had had this whole other life come back to him, like a song he'd had on the tip of his tongue but couldn't remember. - Maybe I believe in magic.

\- That is what, like, that's kind of sort of what we are, isn't it?

Graham squinted. - I can't tell if you're being cheesy or asking me an actual question.

\- Bit of both. Er, mostly an actual question.

\- Well...I don't really know what we are. Magic seems like a fairly tidy answer to that, I guess.

\- Tidy?

\- Explicable. That's a better word. Magic is a fairly explicable answer to our memories and all that.

\- No, that's- that's not good enough for me.

Graham stared at him.

\- Graham, Jesus, eyes on the road! Damon yelped.

\- Oh, er- sorry, just, do you mean, like, we have to find out why we have the memories and all that?

\- Don't you want to know? I want to know.

\- Well...yeah, he shrugged. - But right now?

\- Not right now. We're on the road, he paused. - But...soon, right?

\- Yeah... Graham was about to continue, with any host of responses like "Where would you even start research for that?" and "I've already tried, and found nothing" but he said nothing else, as he didn't really see how it benefited The Now, which was reacquainting himself with Damon, so to speak. He took one hand off the steering wheel and fumbled for Damon's own; that was cheesy, itself, to the extreme, but it was like he physically needed more contact between them. Still, it was sort of awkward, even including the true love bit, his hand was a bit sweaty, and Damon kept looking between their clasped hands and him like he couldn't believe it, and all in all he felt like a teenager, but not a teenager. Like a middle aged man pretending to be a teenager. That's what he felt like.

Regardless, they had reached the Premier Inn. He could feel his heart beat getting faster, whether from excitement or an ingrained sense of wrongdoing. He was, after all, still married to Holly. That didn't change just because he hated her.

\- Graham? Damon was touching his shoulder.

\- Huh? he shook his head. - Sorry.

\- Are you okay? Is this really something you're fine doing?

\- Yes... he looked out the window forlornly at the Premier Inn building, shadows starkly colored in with harsh midday sun, flanked by small deadish trees, the parking lot the strongest and largest thing in it's domain. It all horribly depressed him, and he didn't so much feel as though what he was going to do with Damon was right; it felt rather sleazy. He didn't want it to feel like that. He wanted it to be beautiful and perfect and, you know, magical. - Damon...would you be up for a bit of a drive? he asked kind of sheepishly.

Damon pushed his bottom lip out. - Where to?

\- High Woods Park? I- I used to go there when I was a kid, I don't know... he fidgeted with bits of his hair. - It's not like there's, er, a bed or anything there, but I thought it'd be nicer than this place, he said, jabbing a thumb at the window.

To his relief, Damon nodded knowingly. - I was thinking the same thing. Not about that specific park or anything, course, I just didn't want us to have sex here, and he laughed, and Graham loved him so, so much in that moment, he felt it down to his knees and as a slight arrhythmia in his chest. So he leaned over and kissed him. It was brief, and smiley, the kind old married couples might give each other. Couples. They were a couple. Whatever they really were, he was damned if they weren't a couple.

\- And, you know, far less of a chance of us getting caught or anything.

Damon's smile faded a little at that. - Graham...

\- What? Was that the wrong thing to say? That was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it?

\- No, I just... he put his hand over his forehead. - I hate even thinking that what we're doing is "sneaking around." Something to be caught doing. Like, why aren't we just a couple? And then I think of my wife. And my lovely daughter. And I go crazy again...

Graham bit his lip. - Sorry.

\- Nah, it's nothing. Just me.

\- I one hundred percent know what you're talking about, though.

\- I know, I know. He paused. - So how long is the drive to this park you're talking about?

\- High Woods? Oh, I don't know, half an hour. Like I said, it's really been a long time since I went. I just know that there are very, uh...private sections of the park, right?

Damon's grin returned, somewhat. At least there was that. But he still looked kind of miserable.

\- Alright, well I'm just going to step out for a moment to take my jacket off?

\- Finally! Graham said as the other man opened the car door and hung his torso out, zipping down the front. - I was wondering when you were going to get rid of that bloody thing!

\- What do you mean?

\- What the hell are you doing wearing that thing in April?

\- Er...kind of sort of...comforting, innit?

\- Why are you asking me? Comforting?

Damon took a sharp breath as he got back into the car. His thin shirt had pulled up a little bit in the process of unwrangling himself from the parka, and, admittedly, not really embarrassedly, that was what Graham had been focusing on, not so much what Damon was implying, he had been focusing on his territory, the body of the man he had loved and known in this other life or whatever. But then Damon looked even more miserable than before, so he turned his attention back to his face. My eyes are up here.

\- Suzi has been in and out of the house...quite a lot, the past two weeks, and...well, you and I, you've been ignoring me...so I've, pretty much been all alone, so, er... he buried his face in his hands. - This is- ugh, this is really weird to talk about.

\- The big jacket was your replacement for human contact? Like it was always giving you a big hug? and as Graham said that, he caught himself almost laughing a bit, but seeing how horrifingly mortified and depressed the expression on Damon's face was he made a real conscious effort to clamp down on the ends of his words and spin them nicely.

\- It sounds worse when you put it like that, Damon muttered.

\- Well, that's what it is, isn't it? he said, smacking himself upside the head even more dramatically. - I feel like even more of an asshole now.

\- No... Damon said weakly, placing his warm hand on Graham's shoulder. - We're both processing a lot, you know, w-with all this.

\- Didn't give me an excuse to straight up ignore you like that.

\- Er.

The mood had been killed. He was barely even horny anymore. He cursed, inwards, and took a great big sigh to metaphorically clear up the last minute or so of conversation. He smiled, only faking a little bit of it.

\- Okay. Damon?

\- Yes?

\- I love you. I love you so much, I can feel the bounds of my love for you stretching the very fabric of reality-

Damon grinned.

\- and I honestly don't care about any of this other stuff right now, because I want to go High Woods and park somewhere private and nice with lots of pretty trees and I want us to forget about our wives and our lives and what we even mean to each other, and I want to show you how much I love you.

He had said most of that in one breath. Damon was really grinning. They kissed, again, longer than before, and sweetly.

\- I love you too, he whispered.

\- I know.

\- Let's go then, right?

\- Right.

\- Okay.

Damon took his hand in his again, and, honest to God, that casual closeness, it honestly made him cry a little inside, even though he'd said he didn't want to think about any of that heavy stuff. He didn't know if Damon could tell that he was getting emotional, or if Damon himself was getting emotional, because he kept talking, over the radio and the soft drone of the wheels beneath them. He wasn't really saying much of anything, but his voice was so lulling that Graham barely noticed. And, besides the road and all, the only thing he was paying attention to was how happy he was to be in that car with Damon. He was so happy he wasn't at work or at home or any of those other places that he only ever felt dead at. Dead. He really, really- he always felt dead. So maybe it was like the Matrix, in actuality, the situation with him and Damon. Like his family and Colchester were all part of the simulation and Damon was the real thing. He remembered, vaguely, that perhaps in the movie the real thing was perhaps bad, but he shoved all that away for the sake of a good metaphor, and the fact that he really didn't want to think their relationship was anything but imperfectly perfect in that moment. The scenery flying past them, under them, the warmth of Damon's hand, and it was perfect. He felt at peace with the world, and it was perfect.

And then Damon had to go and say something really notable.

\- Graham, is what we're doing right?

Graham scrunched his eyes up. Why did he even have to say that?! Why did he have to ruin there perfectness?

\- God- no, nope, I cannot talk about that right now. What was I just talking about? I don't want to think about the rightness of everything real right now.

\- But you can't pretend that this is right.

\- No! Damon, this is right! he said, and he fucking meant it. But then he paused, and thought for a moment, mostly saying these thoughts out loud. - Well, of course it isn't right. Morally, anyways. We're cheating on our wives. We are potentially putting our entire families at risk, making a decision that won't just affect the two of us, but also our daughters. That is a far cry from "morally right." But- BUT- you have to keep in mind that there is obviously something going on in the universe that implies that maybe we were made for each other? Fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it, it is pulling us towards each other, is it not? It is like we are tied together. Through eons, space, time, even, the very strands of our beings seem to be intertwined. I don't even have the jadedness to call that cheesy, Damon, it is just fact. So what credit does that give "morally right"?

\- That last bit was actually quite beautiful, Gra.

\- The whole fucking bit was beautiful. We're beautiful. We were made for each other, he repeated, one last time, for a punch of finality. He looked over at Damon, to see what expression he was wearing then. He frowned. He couldn't really tell what face he was making. It wasn't quite the exuberance he was looking for, but it certainly wasn't anything foul, so he considered himself a winner, so to speak.

Despite this, the remainder of the trip to High Woods only hosted the aforementioned radio and wheel noise. They still held hands, but something awkward had definitely entered the air. Not awkward; real. The reality of what they were doing had entered, still somewhat small and in the corner, but there. Graham had laid it all out, in it's beauty, yes, but also the uncomfortable begininning part, which he was about 90% sure was precisely what Damon was ruminating in his big head about then. Wasn't he supposed to be the positive one? It was like all of Damon's angst was funneled into this one aspect of his life. It was a bloody fucking head trip, for sure, but it didn't suck to be happy about them being together then. You're one to fucking talk, one of the other voices in his head snapped at him. Ignore the poor bloke for two straight weeks and then show up one day acting like it's nothing and that the lot of you are soulmates, you're damn right it's a bloody fucking head trip. Aw, shut up...

\- Is this the park? Damon, for the billionth time, snapped Graham out of whatever brain hole he had fallen into, gesturing out the window.

\- Oh- he blinked rapidly. - Yes, yes, this is it.

\- Are you okay?

Graham looked over at him. He seemed genuine enough in his concern.

\- Are you okay?

\- I'm being serious.

\- Yeah, and this is like...I don't know, I feel like you ask me that a lot.

\- Well, you keep looking not okay.

\- I'm fine, he said, and rubbed his thumb in a little circle on the top of the other man's hand, almost more fake than reassuring.

\- You're sure?

\- Are you sure?

Damon rolled his eyes. - Christ, Gra.

The car rattled as they bumped from pavement to gravel road. This- the park and all- seemed to be enough to distract the both of them from how floundering the other was.

\- Where are you going to park? Damon asked.

\- There's a good spot a little up the way that's very secluded, he spoke almost like a businessman. He hated it. He really wasn't horny anymore. He had immersed himself so deeply in his head that he had gone and done it in. Bloody hell...it was so miserable being himself sometimes. Exasperating and miserable.

But no, they were here. They were together. That was all that mattered. He pretended to bludgeon his inner thoughts as if just to prove the point to himself of how happy and perfect he felt.

They drove up a winding black top road with potholes, trees canvassing every surface in side. The white sky broke through in only little slivers of light, and glowed through the leaves of the canopy so that all light was green. This was the most removed he had ever felt from the city. It was amazing.

\- This is really great, Graham, Damon smiled.

\- Told you, didn't I?

\- Yeah.

The road up ahead split off to the left, and he took the turn, going down another narrow gravel road. He drove for perhaps 10 minutes (in silence, comfortable?) until the road ended, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, even more immersed in trees than ever. He parked the car. Without even thinking, a song came back to him. Park the car at the side of the road- you should know that time's tide will smother you, and I will too...

He blinked. He hated Morrissey. He didn't fucking need that right then.

\- So... he began, taking a deep breath. Damon was still smiling at him, sweetly. He didn't say anthing else when they kissed. It was just a plausible development, and a good one at that, with the way the afternoon had been going.

\- I've never had sex in a car, Damon murmured, almost off-handedly.

\- Er.

\- What, have you?

\- No. I haven't- I have never had sex with a...man...before. As he said this his face felt much warmer, and he wasn't sure that it was simply because he had been kissing Damon.

\- Never?

\- No. Why would I have?

Damon made a face.

\- Er. Okay. Wrong phrasing. Okay...I mean I've, like, done other stuff, with, er, guys before, but not...sex.

\- Like who?

His face was definitely very red.

\- Certain guys! What does it matter? Should I make you write down a list of every man you've had sex with?

Damon only smirked, and started kissing him again, perhaps even more intensely, and Graham found himself sort of leaned over the middle section of the car into his arms. Before he realized what had happened Damon had let down his seat so that it was now pretty much level with the ground. Or a mattress, had there been one. But there wasn't. There was the car and the two of them and the trees and the gravel road and probably some birds or something. There was nothing, no one else.

\- You don't think anyone will come down here, do you? Graham asked between mouthfuls of Damon. The other man was currently intent on the undoing of their pants' zippers.

\- No. No, right? It's like two o' clock on a weekday.

\- Right.

Graham started unbuttoning his shirt as Damon pulled his pants off. Of course, he thought, Damon would take his pants off before his shirt. This made him smile.

\- Oh, Graham... he said nearly as soon as he cast his dress shirt and tie into the back seat, burying his face in Graham's neck and making him giggle. Then he started sucking, and the giggle turned to something more of a moan. The horniness was back. Damon slid down from his neck, then, to his chest, just sort of planting kisses all over him. - You really are beautiful.

\- Ick.

\- Come off it. You're the most beautiful man I've ever met, in any life, he grinned, and pulled back for only a moment to pull his own tee shirt off. Underneath was exactly what Graham remembered. - Pants?

\- Right, he said, shimmying out of his own pants. He had ended up beneath Damon, who now held himself above him in only boxers and a devilish grin. Well, not exactly devilish. It was all still very sweet.

\- You're gorgeous, for a man, anyways, Graham continued, mostly mumbling.

\- I love you.

\- 'Cos I complimented you?

\- Haha.

\- I love you, too.

\- I know you do, Gra, I know you do.

He kissed him once more before he started pulling Graham's boxers down, and he nearly swatted him.

\- You first.

\- No, no, I want to do something.

\- That's hardly fair.

\- It's for you though!

\- Unfair to you, then he smirked. - Come on, we can blow each other any time.

Damon laughed. - Ah, I see the emergence of Graham Coxon, porn star!

\- Oh, fuck off. Come on. Take yours off. Please and thank you.

So he took his off, and so did Graham, and then they really just laid there admiring each other with light in their eyes for a minute or two. The only noise to be heard were the very faint chirps of birds from the treeline. It was the eternal soundtrack, wasn't it? Birds chirping. The most iconic piece of music ever composed by nature. It was all nature. Natural. Completely and wHolly the most natural thing each had done. That was how it felt, anyways, being in that car. Both found their tensions and doubts and miseries temporarily alleviated all together. In a way they had almost become two-dimensional vessels for hormones, like sheets of paper mache being stuck together. Their unfinished edges overlapped and completed the others' flaws. Together, they were one normal human being.

And so they proved to each other how much their love was felt. The look in Damon's eyes when he asked the other man, his neighbor, someone who at once he barely knew and knew everything about, asked him if he could enter him, so slowly, so unsurely; it was all the purest form of love. His hands, raking down his back, holding on for dear life like a ship he'd nearly fallen off of. So easily I could have missed you, he thought. So easily. I feel it's almost impossible how much love I have inside of me for you, and I could have gone my whole life not knowing.

\- I love you, they both said, simply, in tandem.

They really weren't anything more than children in that moment. They were both thinking about the first time they had done this, in the other life or whatever. They had only been children. Children, pawing at each other, with so much love. Hurt just on the horizon, of course. Everything real. Small and in the corner, but there. They didn't know how long the good times would last. If they could even call these the good times. They were looking for a fix-up, something to heal that realness, of course. Isn't everyone? All we want is to find something in the one we love that excuses all our own failed humanity. They were certainly no excpetion. They were looking for something to validate the pain they were feeling, moored in lives they hated, trapped with people they didn't love anymore.

They weren't going to find it.

He got home later than he meant to, and he hadn't even ended up calling Holly, like he'd meant to. An hour home later than when he usually got home, and he really had no idea what he was going to tell her. He had waited in the parking lot of Damon's work anxiously for exactly 15 minutes, lest they raise suspicion arriving at their houses not only late, but at the same time. So his nerves were already wrecked.

But, as it turned out, the woman wasn't even home. He was pulling into an empty driveway. This was confusing more than anything (of course, also sort of relieving, but raised more questions than it answered). He walked up the front stoop, Damon's car and house just in the corner of his eye, into a seemingly empty house.

\- Holly? he called. - Pepper!

\- What?

An annoyed teenaged voice dully cut through from the second floor. He sighed.

\- Come down here!

\- Dad...

Pepper stalked out of her room to stand at the top of the steps. Missy was standing beside her.

\- Hey, Mr. Coxon.

\- Pepper, where is your mother?

\- I don't know. Pilates, probably, she scoffed, and turned to give Missy a knowing look.

\- What was that?

\- What was what?

\- Why did you scoff?

\- No reason, she said, and rolled her eyes, and disappeared again.

\- Bye, Mr. Coxon! Missy waved. - Oh, also, is it cool if I eat dinner over here tonight?

\- Well, you'll have to talk to Pepper's mother about that when she gets home.

\- Yeah, whenever that is, she laughed. Graham frowned, and she too disappeared.

What the fuck was that? he thought. And hadn't Holly been out at this Pilates class, like, a lot recently? He shook his head. What did it matter?

He looped himself out of his messenger bag, setting it down on the table carefully. As he walked into the living room his hands flitted unconsciously to his neck, and realized for a horrifyingly long half-second that he might have hickeys, hickeys Holly would see. But then he just shook his head again. What did it matter? It wasn't like she was inspecting his neck. It wasn't like he felt anything was particularly keeping him tied to this family anymore.

Except for Pepper, of course. Of course.

However, it wasn't like Holly would take custody of Pepper if they were to divorce. She wasn't related to her biologically. So he could take Pepper, and Damon could somehow win custody of Missy, and they would all move together to a nice house out in the country somewhere.

Ugh. No. That was stupid. Damon wasn't going to break up with Suzi.

However...

If he had learned anything in the past afternoon, it was that a). He and Damon were truly soul mates, b). Damon knew this, c). Damon and Suzi had been locked in a nasty fight of some sort since the girls were arrested. Were these not the ingredients for a break up? Graham was so high on post-coitus bliss, he couldn't even imagine a future where Damon picked Suzi over him. No way. They were meant to be with each other. What the hell did Suzi have that Graham didn't, love wise? Their relationship wouldn't last another two months. Damon and him would have their fairy-tale ending in no time.

He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and flipped the telly on. Maybe they could invite the whole Albarn-Winstanley over for dinner. If, he thought, cackling, Suzi was even home!

As it went he really just wanted to see Damon again and then as often as possible.

Could he call? Yeah, he would call.

He walked over to the landline and dialed Damon's number. Waited for the tone. Bring, bring, pick it up you twat-

\- Damon! he announced at the click.

\- This is Suzi, a weary voice said.

\- Oh.

\- Graham?

\- Uh...yeah.

\- Hey! Jeez, feel like I haven't talked to you in a while!

\- Yeah, it had been...a while. He picked at a piece of lint on his trousers. - How are you?

\- Oh, I'm fine. And you?

\- I'm gre- I'm good, you know. Haha. Er...

\- Did you need to talk to Damon?

\- Uh...actually I was just calling to wonder, er, to ask if you wanted to join us for dinner tonight?

There was a very definite pause.

\- Suzi? Still there?

\- Sorry, no, I'm afraid.

\- Oh, okay.

She continued with a real edge to her voice. - I think your wife has made it clear that we are no longer welcome over.

\- Er... he really didn't know what to say to that. - You know, I could talk to her? I mean, it's been like two weeks, I don't think-

\- Goodbye.

And she hung up.

He frowned. Set the phone back on the dock. That had to have been one of his weirder phone conversations with someone, ever. Well. Not quite "weird," considering the circumstances. Whatever those were. So he went back to the couch, and was there for another hour until the door opened and his wife had finally come home.

\- Hey, he said, waving from the couch.

Her face was flushed, face set. She saw him from the door and set her bags down.

\- Hey.

\- Pilates?

\- Uh, yeah. Sorry I'm home so late!

\- Oh, it's-

\- Could you go put my stuff upstairs? I was going to start on dinner.

\- Sure, sure, he said, standing up. He put his hand on her shoulder kind of awkwardly, in the best way of care he could manage after an afternoon of true love with someone else.

\- Good day? she asked.

\- Eh, he said. - Pretty normal.

\- Well, normal's good sometimes, and she smiled, and went into the kitchen.

Normal? he thought. Normal? Sure. Definitely not "eh," though. He reached down and picked her bags up, starting up the stairs, biting back a smirk. "Eh." "Normal." What a load of it!

He knocked on Pepper's door as he passed by. - Pepper? he called again.

\- What, Dad? she yelled.

\- Your mother's home!

\- And?

\- Well...I thought you wanted to ask if Missy could stay for dinner?

The door opened. Pepper was standing there, arms still crossed, and Missy was sitting on the floor, spinning what appeared to be a dradel. He shook his head. - Missy, I called your mum earlier to invite the whole family over, but she said no.

\- Course she would. Your wife hates her, doesn't she?

He blanched. Pepper laughed.

\- Come on, Missy, my mum doesn't hate you. Let's go ask if you can stay.

Missy stood up, and they dashed past him, clomping down the stairs. He watched the empty space for a moment before stepping out of the doorway and continuing on to his and Holly's bedroom.

She had about three separate bags, filled with what, he didn't know. He set them down and was about to leave when he heard a phone ding, the ding for his phone. It was coming out of one of the bags. Figuring he must've dropped it while carrying them, he reached in and mindlessly grabbed it, turning it on with one click.

He and Holly had the same phone case, the same text tone. The lock screen wallpaper, however, was different, and he was certainly not receiving texts from a man named Robert that read Hey, babe, had a great time today as always, just wanted to remind you what you're missing ;) This also came with a picture of this man Robert's penis, something he certainly did not have on his phone.

It took Graham a full moment to process what he had just seen. He set the phone down. Obviously Holly was cheating on him. Right?

Holly was cheating on him.

He set his jaw and sat down on the bed.

Holly was cheating on him. There was no Pilates class. There was Robert.

Holly was cheating on him.

He stared at the wall.

How did he feel about this?

Did he feel anything?

Or was there nothing left, there, to even feel?

He stood up, and went back downstairs. He sat down for dinner, with Pepper, and Missy, who was allowed to stay, and Holly. He didn't remember one thing from dinner. He wasn't even sure if he ate. Everything raced past him at a million miles an hour. Missy was staying over for a sleepover tonight. Damon will be over tomorrow to pick her up. His stomach froze. God, Damon. He was cheating on Holly with the love of his life, Damon. She was cheating on him with Robert. What a fucking wreck of a family.

He laid down to bed. And fell asleep, with only one dream. One single dream. Divorce. He was going to divorce her. He was walking through a vast dark chasm with one candle, and a small hum started to approach him, small and weak until it became loud to the point that his organs began to liquify and his muth was filled with bile and blood, and he dug his eyes and ears out of their place and screamed. Divorce. He loved Damon. She most likely loved this Robert. So it all made sense. It was all tidy and perfect.

A monster approached him. It was the universe. It consumed him.

Perfect.


End file.
